Mikaboshi
by Razell
Summary: The Doctor encounters two strange boys, one a Jagaroth, the other a mystery. I'm now combining related stories about Mikaboshi for convenience. Futurekindness, Mother's Day, English Blood, Consequences. . .
1. Chapter 1

Mikaboshi

They could scarcely have been more out of place, two boys in mid-twentieth century Japanese high school uniforms, one carrying a sonic pen, the other wearing a holo-shroud emitter around his wrist, walking through the streets of London. There was no way The Doctor didn't recognize the alien technology, in fact, they were probably coming close to Torchwood's radar. But he seemed to be ignoring them, and that annoyed Mikaboshi. The Doctor was a master at annoying people. It was clear they'd have to make the first move. "Sargon," Mikaboshi turned to the youth wearing the holo-shroud, "I guess he wants us to come to him."

"Actually, I've been watching you, watching me." The Doctor was suddenly there, beside them, "_Watching you, Watching me_. . . That was a song, wasn't it?" He smiled. The boy with the sonic pen regarded the Time Lord with a sense of frustration, "Why is everything a game with you?" "Because life is dull without a little fun every now and again." He turned to the second boy, threw an arm over his shoulder, "Now, Sargon, wasn't it? I was under the impression the Jagaroth went extinct. Not that I'm not terribly pleased to meet you, but. . . " Sargon's holographic eyes widened, "How did you know I was a Jagaroth?" "Jagaroth leave a faint trail through time. When I said I was watching you watching me, I was being literal, I've been following you while you've been following me. The question is. . ." He turned toward Mikaboshi, "Who are _you_, and how did you get your hands on _Time Lord_ technology?"

It was Mikaboshi's turn to smile, "You really don't know who I am, do you?"

"Should I?"

"I suppose not."

The Doctor whipped out his sonic screwdriver and quickly ran it over the boy, a look of confusion briefly flickered across his slender features. "The TARDIS' readings were right," he said, shocked, "Hybrid genetic material. . ." Was this why he didn't sense him, didn't recognize him?

"What's your name?" he demanded.

"I'm called Mikaboshi, for now, at least."

"Japanese god of evil and stars, interesting choice. Now who are you, really?"

"Perhaps we should continue this conversation aboard my vessel."

The ship was disguised as the base of a magnificent, full-length statue of a gorgon (The mythical kind, not _t__rue _Gorgons). It was a TARDIS, but it was not a TARDIS, like everything about this Mikaboshi, it didn't fit right. A dimensionally transcendental space-time craft with TARDIS elements blended with technology utterly unknown to The Doctor. It was decorated in a bizarre but comfortable mixture of Jagaroth, early Egyptian, Japanese, late Gorgon and... _Something_.

"Not bad, I've seen better. Now, who are you?"

"Patience, Doctor."

Sargon quickly shed his human guise, revealing his true form, a green, thickly veined humanoid with one rather beautiful, clear green eye and two breathing flaps adorning an otherwise featureless face. The Jagaroth were certainly memorable, if nothing else. Sparks of humor and curiosity flickered in that single green eye, and The Doctor sensed that this Jagaroth was a gentle, open being. Nothing like the last Jagaroth he had encountered. His companion, however, seemed stern and cold. He knew this boy, but from where?

As they were walking through the ship, he noticed something unusual hanging on the wall. He'd never seen it before, but he was certain he knew where it had come from. It was a framed scroll depicting several members of the ancient Egyptian Pantheon. The furthest god on the right was depicted as a man with a green, one-eyed head. _Scaroth_.

As The Doctor examined the scroll, Mikaboshi came up behind him, "I saved that scroll from the fire that ravaged Scaroth's château. You know the story, Doctor, you were there."

In 1979 C.E., Scaroth, apparently the last of the Jagaroth, had gathered hundreds of millions of pounds worth of art and antiquities. He was selling them off to finance a time machine so that he could go back in time and prevent the destruction of his vessel, carrying the last, (known), Jagaroth survivors. It was more than simple survivor's guilt, Scaroth had been splintered into twelve fragments at twelve points in human history, driving him mad. The Doctor, Romana and a detective named Duggan had stopped him, not to destroy the Jagaroth, but to save the human race, whose evolution began due to the radiation from the explosion. When he returned to 1979, Scaroth had been killed by a frightened thug, his time bubble was destroyed and a fire ravaged the building. The Doctor himself had later come back to save many of the priceless treasures from the flames. Somehow he wasn't surprised that other time travelers had done the same.

"I also took the micromeson scanner. . ."

"Funny, you don't look like the type for gaudy bracelets."

"He'd used it to kill his unfortunate wife. I. . . I took it from her wrist." He blushed slightly at the admission of stealing from a corpse, "I didn't want it to be found by UNIT or Torchwood and used as a weapon."

The Doctor felt a twist in his stomach, he'd found the Countess Scarlioni's body lying in the study as he salvaged what items he could. He hadn't known how she ad died, but he'd known _why_. He'd told her what her husband, Count Carlos Scarlioni, really was, and she'd confronted him over it. He'd caused her death. She might have been a thief and an accomplice murderess, but she was still a human being, a precious life. Yet another life lost because of his actions. He wondered if Scaroth had ever had any true feelings for her. He must have, or he'd never have married her. Yet he'd discarded her like an unwanted toy.

How many of Scaroth's crimes had been madness, and how much merely deliberate evil? He would never know.

The trio entered a large dining hall and sat in smooth, black chairs at a table of strangely carved obsidian. The Doctor didn't like being so utterly in the dark about a situation. Surrounded by technology even he'd never seen, with a boy who couldn't exist. For once, The Doctor cut straight to the point, "You're half-Gallifreyan, aren't you?" The Doctor was excited at the prospect that he was not alone, that other children of Gallifrey had survived. That he was not, in fact, the last of his species. That he wasn't alone in the universe.

"_Yes_, and _no_. I was loomed to a Great House on Gallifrey, but I died and was re-made into something more."

"You're being enigmatic, I can't stand that, being enigmatic." The Doctor fidgeted with a mixture of nervous tension and impatience, this was no time for games.

"Perhaps my original name will help," Mikaboshi sighed, "I was once Paracelsus of the House Rassilon." The name '_Rassilon_' was spoken in a tone of utter contempt.

Now it was the Doctor's turn to be shocked. He remembered Paracelsus, the boy had been one of his students at the Academy, during his first incarnation. A bright young Gallifreyan who had despised his infamous ancestor, and, indeed, most of Time Lord society. In the light of The Last Great Time War, perhaps he had been right all along. He was something of an anarchist, albeit a peaceful one. He had often argued with students and teachers alike that Rassilon had committed unwarranted genocide against various ancient species, particularly the Great Vampires. His tragic death had come about due to a cruel joke, a girl playing upon his emotions and then humiliating him. The already fragile youth had snapped, and ended his life in such a way that it would be remembered throughout Time Lord history.

"That's not possible. Paracelsus is dead, he flung himself into The Untempered Schism, nothing could survive the forces at the Heart of Time and Space."

"I told you I'd died." Mikaboshi continued, casually, "And you're wrong, there are beings capable of surviving in that place. One of them found my. . . _remains_ and took pity on me. She rebuilt me using Her own genetic material."

"She?"

"My mother. Shub-Niggurath."

_Shub-Niggurath_, one of The Great Old Ones, unfathomably ancient beings who had survived the death of their own universe to emerge into the present. Though The Doctor had encountered Great Old Ones before, he had never met Shub-Niggurath. He was, however, well-acquainted with Her child, the Nestene Consciousness.

So that was why he didn't recognize the additional genetic material, it belonged to a being from a race that had evolved in a universe utterly alien to his own. The technology, too, was doubtless based on the principles of the previous universe.

"It's ironic that, in trying to end my own life, I should survive the destruction of my entire race."

The Doctor was stunned. Then, a terrible thought occurred to him. "You want revenge." He stated softly, he couldn't blame the boy. After all, he had wiped out his entire species.

Mikaboshi shook his head, "Revenge? The Time Lords were a callous, vicious warlike race, the universe won't miss them."

That phrase... It sounded familiar. He remembered now, in his fourth regeneration he had said that about the. . .

He looked at the young Jagaroth. His green, heavily veined head betrayed no emotion, the two breathing flaps kept normal pace. . . He didn't know. Of course. He could see the deep emotion in Mikaboshi's eyes. He wouldn't tell him, he didn't want to cause him pain. But there was anger in Mikaboshi's eyes. He wanted revenge, alright, but not for the destruction of Gallifrey, he wanted revenge for an insult, a racial slur The Doctor had long since forgotten. How could he possibly know that he'd insulted the Jagaroth in 1979? The Doctor hadn't even remembered it until Mikaboshi had mentioned it. How closely had he been watched? And why?

"She gave me this vessel," he continued, "Scavenged from a ruined TARDIS and Her own technology. I have used it to save other species from destruction. Shortly before Jagaron was consumed by the fires of war, I rescued as many civilians as I could. I brought them to a new world to start again. They're pacifists now, they learned their lesson. Unfortunately, the Time Lords did not."

Now he was trying to shame him, to prove that he had been wrong about the Jagaroth.

"The Jagaroth must be very important to you." The Doctor looked into Mikaboshi's eyes.

"As humans are to you." Came the reply.

He turned toward Sargon, "What are your people like now, Sargon? What do they do?"

"We have trade agreements with a few other races, the Zygons, the Hoix, we mainly trade food and technology. I'm not surprised you didn't know we're still around, we don't have much to do with the politics of other races..."

"That's good, the universe has more than enough politicians."

Sargon laughed and Mikaboshi smiled thinly.

Sadness played across that bright green eye, "I remember what we were before. The old ways were... Terrible, I don't even know what the war was about. I'm not sure anyone did. I only know I hid from the bombs wherever I could and ate whatever I could find. I barely remember him saving me," The Jagaroth said, softly, "I was so sick, the radiation and hunger, I was almost dead. I remember being tired, and a two-eyed stranger picking me up. The next thing I remember is waking up in a bed, with that two-eyed stranger standing at my bedside." The youth gave the equivalent of a smile, " He nursed me back to health, and let me stay, when he found out I didn't have a family." The rage dimmed in Mikaboshi's eyes, vanished, replaced by a soft affection, "Without you to keep me company, I'd have gone mad long ago."

The Doctor understood the need for companionship, the bonds that were formed. He would have gone mad himself several times without the support of a faithful companion.

The Doctor sighed, "You know, you were right all along, Paracelsus. You saw the truth, even tried to warn us, while the rest of us were willfully blind."

Mikaboshi paled, W-What?"

"Rassilon was a megalomaniac, willing to sacrifice all of Creation to save his own life. His war with the Great Vampires was one of genocide, not necessity. And what he did to poor Koshei was unforgivable." Koshei. The Master. Driven mad from childhood by the sound of war drums thrumming in his head, a sound implanted by Rassilon as a link to try and escape the Last Great Time War. The Master had slaughtered billions in his insanity, and all that blood ultimately rested on Rasslion's head. "And the Time Lords. . . " He shook his head, "They willingly followed him. They weren't the same people, the war changed them. Or maybe, it merely brought out the their true selves."

Mikasboshi shook his head, stunned, "I don't know what to say. I only wish I had been wrong."

"So do I."

"So, tell me," the Doctor said, trying to lighten the mood, "These races you helped save, was one of them _The Great Vampires_?" Mikaboshi adopted an exaggerated look of shock, "Why, Doctor, the Law of Rassilon states that any Time Lord who encounters a Great Vampire should kill it at once." "True, but you're not a Time Lord." "True enough... And they wouldn't be nearly as dangerous when they're around our size, not that I'd know." "And I suppose you don't have a machine capable of making, say, a giant vampire into a not-so-giant vampire." He smiled, "Rassilon is dead, you know. I saw him die. And I'm no more fond of genocide than you are" "Can such evil ever truly die?" he shrugged, "It was child's play sneaking them out right under that pompous idiot's nose. The _hard_ part was convincing them to trust me." "And how did you avoid becoming a meal?" "My hybrid blood is apparently inedible. And, of course, this was before I met Sargon, I'd never take him into the middle of a war." "Good for you, pity you couldn't make them into vegetarians."

They all laughed a bit over that. The anger had faded from Mikaboshi's eyes.

After a few hours of small talk, Sargon was getting sleepy and The Doctor decided it was time to go. As the Doctor stepped across the dimensional threshold, he turned to face Mikaboshi/Paracelsus. Green eyes met black. "This is always hard for me to say..." he began to fidget, "But in this case, well...You're right, and I'm sorry for what for what I said." "Thank you, Doctor." Mikaboshi sighed, "I really didn't mean what I said about our people, I just wanted to upset you. I'm sorry for that. The Doctor paused, "Tell me, please, are there others? Did others from Gallifrey survive? Or am I alone?" "Do you honestly believe that an entire race of beings who travel through all of space, time and other dimensions could be wiped out in one attack at one point in history?" "So there are others?" Hope sprang into his two hearts. "I'm afraid you'll have to find that out for yourself. I can't tell you anything more." "You're being enigmatic, you know I hate that!" "Sorry, Doctor, but as River Song always says, no 'spoilers'." Mikaboshi smiled, then closed the door.

"You know River?" he muttered. . . "Wait a minute, how did you know what I said in 1979!" The Doctor shouted

"Don't worry, I wasn't watching _you_, Doctor, I was watching _Scaroth_!"

The statue vanished into the night.

To Be Continued. . .

_Notes_:

Yes, Mikaboshi can be very petty. Why 'Mikaboshi'? Because, while he's not evil or even cruel, he enjoys breaking the rules and causing 'harmless' chaos. According to Wikipedia, Mikaboshi is the god of Evil and the Stars, particularly the Polar Star. If he's not considered evil in Japan, I apologize.

The Fourth Doctor actually did make the 'universe won't miss them' remark about the Jagaroth in their one and only appearance, the classic Doctor Who episode _City of Death_. I always thought that was a terrible thing for him to say. I felt sorry for Scaroth, his body and mind torn into twelve pieces that were scattered throughout time, all of them incomplete, and trying to save his race from extinction, living with the guilt of being the sole survivor of his species... That would drive anyone mad.

Since Scaroth, (and Jagaroth culture), had such a huge impact on human history, some Jagaroth names slipped in, Sargon was a Jagaroth name long before it was Akkadian or Assyrian. One of his splinters may in fact have been one of those rulers, probably the Akkadian King _Sargon the Great_, who ruled a vast Mesopotamian empire between about 2334 to 2279 B.C.E. Sargon is Akkadian for 'The king is legitimate' or 'The true king' according to Wikipedia.

The Jagaroth leaving a faint trail through time was a story cheat by the writer of _City of Death_ to allow The Doctor to find Scaroth after he'd traveled back about four hundred million years.

B.C.E. = Before Christian Era

C.E. = Christian Era

Mikaboshi/Paracelsus is _not_ a Time Lord. He is/was a Gallifreyan, the difference being Time Lords are a social class, not a species. Gallifreyans become Time Lords through academy training (Which Paracelsus never finished) and family influence. Arguably he is neither, as most of his genetic make-up was supplied by Shub-Niggurath, he is, at best, a hybrid creature. He is even less of a Gallifreyan than River Song. Rassilon's House was never stated, but I assume they'd name themselves after their glorious ancestor. Rassilon was a member of The Prydonian Chapter House, which was more a political group. Paracelsus had no political affiliation.

Did other Gallifreyans survive? I don't see how they could not have, but that's up to the writers, not me.

The Great Old Ones are prominent in some of the Doctor Who novels, so far, to my knowledge, Shub-Niggurath has never been encountered by The Doctor, but she was mentioned as the mother of the Nestene Consciousness. Yes, Mikaboshi does loyally serve her when she calls upon him to do so.

The Great Vampires were giant vampires, some so large they could feed off of entire worlds, Rassilon hated them so much he fought The First Great Time War to exterminate them. A Great Vampire (their King, in fact) appears in The 4th Doctor serial '_State of Decay_'.

Gorgons appeared in The Sarah Jane Adventures episode '_Eye of The Gorgon_', where they are revealed as blue ethereal creatures, not humanoids with serpents for hair. Medusa, in her traditional form, appeared in The 2nd Doctor serial '_The Mind Robber_'. Scaroth actually had Medusa's head engraved on each of the two massive doors to his château.

_Doctor Who_, _Jagaroth_, etc... Copyright BBC


	2. Chapter 2

Title: **Futurekindness**  
Category: TV Shows » Doctor Who  
Author: Razell  
Language: English, Rating: Rated: T  
Genre: Sci-Fi/Tragedy  
Published: 05-14-13, Updated: 05-14-13  
Chapters: 1, Words: 2,518

* * *

**Chapter 1: Chapter 1**

* * *

Futurekindness

Malcassairo, 100000000000000 A.D.

The End of Everything.

Bron might be just a Futurekind savage, but he wasn't a fool. He had no illusions as to what would come next. He had accepted it long ago, not like those 'civilized' idiots in their shiny rocket, heading for a new world, for a non-existent hope. He knew better. He knew there was no hope, not for anyone. The universe itself was dying, and they would all die with it.

He was hungry, but they all were. The humans had left only two bodies, his kinswoman and the insect female. He hadn't been able to secure any of either's remains, the tribe was aggressive when it came to food. When they were hungry again. . . He wondered who in the tribe would be _eaten_ first.

A strange buzzing sound filled the still, dark air, and a light appeared in the starless sky. Another ship! More humans! At least they might have a chance to freeze with full bellies instead of gnawing hunger. Then, Bron blinked in confusion. He'd seen many ships in his short life, but never one like this. It was dark and round, and as it came to land three long, thin legs extended out, supporting it upon the cold, dry ground. A hatch opened, a light shone out and a walkway appeared, touching the ground, but no one came out. He turned and ran, the Chieftain needed to know about this.

Aboard the vessel, Maedar looked over the piles of food and shook his head, serpentine locks lashing. "I still think this is a bad idea." He cautioned, "Just Trans-Mat them all onto me and I'll secure them."

Mikaboshi considered that, but he knew he'd have to interact with the Futurekind sooner or later, and figured sooner was better. They needed to win their trust, it would be much easier that way. "They can't hurt you, you know. You're made of. . . _Whatever_ you're made of. And my Great Old One blood protects me from serious injury." Yes," The obsidian Gorgon turned to the small youth at the slim, functional control panel, "But I just hope we don't have to hurt them." He wondered if the sight of an ancient, Type I Jagaroth transport vessel would frighten them. . .

He-Who-Eats-Hearts stared up at the strange craft, confusion on his scarred, tattooed countenance. It was a trap. It had to be. No one had come out, they were clearly waiting for them to come in. But did it matter? They were all dead anyway. . . He held up his arm, preparing the tribe to rush the vessel, when a voice came out of the darkness.

"Come aboard. You need not fear us." The voice was male, youthful, "We can take you away from here."

The first rule of survival, when someone tells you to trust him, _don't_ .

"Bron," The Chieftain turned to the sentry, his voice a rasping hiss, "Go, see what it is. Maybe food." Bron didn't hesitate, he feared his leader more than whatever was aboard that strange ship.

"And our first guest arrives." Maedar whispered, as a man cautiously worked his way toward the door. He poked his head in, blinking in the unfamiliar light and looked around, before the scent of meat hit him. He stood, staring in awe at the banquet laid out before, barely noticing his hosts. He was in his early twenties, with dark, unkempt hair and wary eyes beneath thick eyebrows. His face was dirty and pale, he had never felt the glow of a healthy sun upon his skin. He sported several prominent facial piercings, and his teeth were pointed, meant for tearing meat. He looked about the room, measuring up the situation.

Bron had never seen so much food before! But he had to keep his head, to figure out what was going on. The only living souls in sight were a boy and a creature. . . The boy was thin, dressed in fine clothes and cleaner than anyone Bron had ever seen. He stood beside some kind of panel, watching him without fear. Another creature moved, black as night, unlike any being Bron could have imagined, even its hair seemed alive, w_as _alive, and beady green eyes glinted from that rustling mane. "As I said," The boy walked to within striking distance, unarmed and unafraid, the other creature held back, "We want to help you." He looked deep into Bron's eyes, "We're friends. . ."

A few moments passed, and He-Who-Eats-Hearts and the rest of the tribe had drawn closer to the ship, standing within the dazzling light. The smell of cooked meat was strong, nearly irresistible. After what seemed to be an eternity, Bron emerged from the vessel, and let out a yell, "_FOOD_!" After that, there was no holding them back.

Maedar watched the dirty, near feral creatures pour aboard and descend upon the piles of meat Mikaboshi had so generously brought them. They seemed disoriented by the light, but their hunger was so great that they rushed in anyways, jostling for position in the narrow doorway. Maedar hoped that no one would get hurt. He had brought Mikaboshi to The End of The Universe on this mission of mercy. As Avatar of a sentient ship, he felt a keen responsibility to all aboard. He knew Mikaboshi felt the same.

The 'Futurekind' creatures fell upon the food, ripping and tearing away as much as they could hold. Mikaboshi had said that it was a tragedy that a race should develop at the End of Everything, but he had been mistaken. It was tragic, alright, but these were not truly a '_new_' race, they were merely humans, adapted and degraded to a life of predation and survival at all costs. And they were the _lucky_ ones. The ones who had gone off in the rocket. . . He pitied them.

Mikaboshi stood off by the side and waited for them to finish. There were maybe thirty of them, and the oldest was probably around thirty-six, he touched their minds, lightly, and shuddered. Short, brutal lives. What was the point of kindness or mercy when the very _universe_ was dying around you? Bitterness, hunger, fear, envy, the overpowering desire to survive. People reduced to little more than animals. He had seen it before, and he knew that he would see it again.

Bron was full, for the first time in years, he had eaten his fill, he had no way to hoard the rest, as he normally would, after the Chieftain had his share, of course. The boy called Mikaboshi crouched beside him, "Which one is your chief?" Mikaboshi knew already, but it was best not to let them know he could read their minds. Bron pointed him out, "He-Who-Eats-Hearts." The man was tall, thin but powerful. Ritual scars and tattoos, along with numerous piercings, covered his face, he was probably under thirty. "Impressive." Mikaboshi offered, "I want to talk to him, when he's done eating, of course. Is there any special way I should approach him?" "Never look in the eyes, you will challenge him." Bron turned to look at him, "What about the others?" "Others?" "The humans, on the rocket." Mikaboshi shuddered, "They. . . They didn't make it." He lied. He didn't want to think about what awaited the humans on their 'Utopia'. That was a fixed point, it could not be changed. But these people he could help, he _would_ help.

The Chieftain stood, holding his weapon, and looked toward the strange, dark creature with the living hair. He tried to size it up, but it was impossible, he had no knowledge of what it was, what those things on its head were, even if was male or female. For all he knew, it was a robot of some kind. It was lean muscled and looked quick and strong. The boy, on the other hand, looked slim and weak, but he had a feeling about him of power and confidence, and he had no obvious fear of the tribe. His scent was wrong, not human, not like anything known to him. He was more than he appeared, but how much more he did not know.

Mikaboshi walked toward the chief and bowed respectfully, "I am Mikaboshi, and I am a friend." The Chieftain examined his face closely, even aggressively, no fear or deception was evident. "Friend?" "Yes. This ship can take you to another world." He-Who-Eats-hearts laughed, "Utopia? We surprise the humans?" It would serve them right, leaving them to die. . . Mikaboshi shook his head, "No, we're going far away, to where the universe is young. We are going back in time." The tall, scarred man seemed perplexed by that, the idea of time travel must have have been lost to humanity long ago, and these people had lost most of their humanity long ago as well.

Maedar winced as several makeshift motorbikes roared up the ramp and into the ship, everything, weapons, clothing, items looted from the abandoned silo, was finally aboard. Everything and everyone. Maedar looked out across Malcassairo with his mind and sensors, aside from a few plants and small animals, the world was barren of life. he felt a deep sadness, and wondered what life the next universe would bring. He had knowledge of the previous universe, given him by Shub-Niggurath, and he might even see the next. Mikaboshi had spoken several times of passing beyond that barrier, as Shub-Niggurath and her kin had done before, and becoming a Great Old One in the next universe. Here, now, it was only a short jump to The End and The Beginning, The Big Crunch and The Big Bang. . . However, Maedar doubted Mikaboshi could bear to leave this universe and it's people.

"Any sign of_ him_?" Mikaboshi asked softly.

Maedar searched as far as his scanners would reach, the universe was shrinking rapidly, he didn't have too far to look.

"No."

"He's out there." Mikaboshi said confidently, "He'll outlast the universe, in one form or another. A scary thought, isn't it? Davros, Creator of the Daleks, with the powers of a god. . ." He smiled thinly, "No sign of Rassilon, I hope?"

"There is only one Time Lord here, now, and we both know who he is."

Mikaboshi nodded, Koshei, The Master, had journeyed to the end of the universe to escape from The Last Great Time War and gain his revenge upon The Doctor. He would, in the end, have neither. For all the atrocities The Master had committed, he had been the one to destroy Rassilon, and Mikaboshi owed him a great debt for that. Rassilon had intentionally driven Koshei mad, plaguing him with the sound of drums from childhood to death. All so that he could save himself from The Last Great Time War. All the blood The Master had shed was upon Rassilon's head, and, in the end, Koshei had given his life to destroy _The First Time Lord_. Mikaboshi loathed the blood of Rassilon that flowed through his veins, his whole life was devoted to undoing his evil and atoning for his sins.

Mikaboshi found it easier to forgive Davros' nihilistic madness than Rassilon's calculated evil. Perhaps it was because he was not related to Davros, did not carry the stigma of his name, the taint of his blood.

His thoughts fled, and he paled as Sargon walked into the chamber.

A few Futurekind noted the arrival of a strange creature, small, green-skinned with one eye and thick, root-like veins covering his flesh. He walked over to and spoke with Mikaboshi, who finally showed a hint of concern with his arrival. He needn't, even had He-Who-Eats-Hearts been hungry, that creature looked inedible.

"I'd feel much better if you stayed in the safety of the library." Mikaboshi whispered.

"I wanted to see them. Besides," Sargon said, "They seem peaceful enough when they're full. . ." Mikaboshi could see that the Futurekind saw the Jagaroth as unappetizing, but that wouldn't prevent them from harming him out of sheer malice, should they choose to do so...

They had never seen a sky like that one, a sun blazing like fire in an endless expanse of blue and white. The light was warm, a warmth like they had never felt. On the ground stretched a small stone city, surrounded by plants, the air was thick with flying things of various shapes and sizes. And the colors! For people who had known only shades of gray, the vibrant colors almost hurt their eyes, so many and varied were they.

The previous inhabitants had left it ready and waiting for enterprising colonists. They would have to be trained to survive. The Futurekind were used to hunting in a dark, cold desert, they would be lost in a forest environment. That was why he had recruited five highly skilled Homo Reptilian hunters to teach them survival techniques. If they could avoid eating each other, this could be a success.

"Do you think they'll change? Become less violent?" Sargon asked, looking out a window with a fine view of the settlement. "I don't know," Maedar replied, "That's entirely up to them."

Several weeks later. . .

After a rough start, Mikaboshi was confident that the Futurekind, with help from The Silurians and occasional visits from himself, would adapt to their new homes. Bloodshed had been limited to a few small fights, and they seemed to be settling in nicely. He was sure everything would be alright.

After all, he had saved The Great Vampires from Rassilon, hadn't he?

To Be Continued. . .

_Notes_:

I gave the Futurekind a Latin name _Homo Dentatis_, or 'Toothed Man'.

_Homo Reptilia_ is another name for Silurians.

Maedar is a Dungeons and Dragons term for a male of the Medusa race, they are bald, muscular humanoids, without have snakes for hair. I have no idea of the origin of the word 'Maedar' beyond that. Maedar is the ship itself, he is an extension of the ship that interacts with others.

The Futurekind have never seen snakes before, and never heard of Gorgons, Medusa, etc... Therefore such a creature is a total mystery to them.

If you've never seen what a Jagaroth looks like, they're hard to describe. Google 'Scaroth' or 'Jagaroth' to see for yourselves.

The Futurekind appear in the Tenth Doctor episodes '_Utopia_' and '_The Sound of Drums_'. They are basically humans who've reverted to 'savagery' and cannibalism to survive. I felt sorry for them, hence, like the Jagaroth, they live again. None of the Futurekind were given names in the story. The actor who played their 'Chieftain' was Paul Marc Davies, who also played The Trickster on The Sarah Jane Adventures. I tried to give him a suitably bloody name. According to Graeme Harper in _Doctor Who Adventures_ magazine, he got his scars by having motorcycles ridden over his face as initiation into the tribe. Bron was based on a specific Futurekind individual as well, though it would be hard to pick him out of the group. He had thick eyebrows and a large ring in the bridge of his nose. In the Doctor Who _Battles in Time _card game, he is _Futurekind 1_, card #193.

The two bodies mentioned earlier where _Chantho_, Professor Yana's/The Master's assistant, whom who murdered when he got his memories back, and _The Wiry Woman_, a Futurekind who infiltrated the silo to abort the launch, and was shot dead by the human guards. I doubt they'd pass up a meal, kinswoman or not.

I think if any one Doctor Who character, (Not counting transcendental beings like The Great Old Ones), besides Captain Jack and The Doctor himself, would survive the end of the universe, it would be Davros.

_Doctor Who_ and all related Copyright BBC

_Davros_ and _The Daleks_ copyright the estate of Terry Nation

_Dungeons and Dragons_ copyright Wizards of The Coast and TSR


	3. Chapter 3

Necessary Evil

One pale green eye stared into the bright blue, gem-like visual sensor set within their 'guest's' forehead. After a few seconds it began to give him a headache, and he turned away. The ancient creature laughed. "It's amazing," His voice was smooth, yet metallic, "How much your head resembles one of my creations." "Perhaps we have a common ancestry." The Jagaroth said politely. "I am of a far, far superior race. . ." The Kaled replied, a hint of rage in his voice. Sargon shrugged and looked toward Mikaboshi, his friend and protector just shook his head.

Davros was somewhat frustrated, he had been saved from almost certain death by these. . . _Children_, and they had treated him extraordinarily well. His only real limitation was that his weaponry was disabled by the vessel they were aboard. He was free to roam about as he liked while they searched for a place and time to safely deposit him. They were both highly intelligent, (for inferior species), and could make interesting conversation. But they were so infuriatingly polite and kind he almost wished he had been captured by a prison ship. He would play along, however, it was a small price to pay for their aid. And the technology aboard this ship was impressive, his scanners were almost overtaxed by their readings. This could prove very useful indeed.

Davros slid across the obsidian floor, his metallic fingers tapping restlessly on the console of his life support system. "Are you a friend," He turned sharply toward Mikaboshi, "Of The Doctor?" "We disagree in many things, but we are not enemies." Mikaboshi replied cryptically. "Why would a Time Lord save Davros, Creator of The Daleks?" His Dalek-like travel machine/life support system moved uncomfortably close to the youth, "What do you want of me?" Mikaboshi stared the ancient scientist in his burning, artificial eye, never flinching, "I am _not_ a Time Lord. I opposed them, and If they still lived, I would oppose them still." He leaned down on the console, placing his face close to Davros' own shriveled visage, "As for your survival, you must live to maintain the Web of Time." Davros laughed, "I cannot die!" He stated confidently. Mikaboshi leaned back against the wall, arms akimbo, "I know, but we can't take chances." Davros frowned in confusion, this boy was acknowledging his immortality, something no one but his most loyal Daleks had ever done.

Davros was a bizarre creature. Sargon had seen many strange things, including Great Old Ones, but Davros was. . . ._Unique._ His entire lower body, if it still existed, was locked within the base of a Dalek, his upper body was withered and one-armed, his hand artificial, strong, shining metal that contrasted greatly with the deep black of his clothing and life support system. Eyes fused shut on a face like that of a mummy centuries dead. Metal pins secured a brace to his skull, a secondary brace, almost resembling a silver mohawk, ran down his skull, front to back. Black gums held yellowed teeth. And, according to Mikaboshi, most of the flesh on his torso, mercifully hidden by his shirt, had been torn away, (by Davros himself!), leaving his bones and internal organs open and visible.

How _old_ was he? The Daleks had existed for millions of years, and he was their creator. How long had he spent in suspended animation before the Doctor and the Movellans awakened him? Long enough for Skaro to become a dead world and the Daleks to create a vast empire. After spending ninety years in a cryogenic cell, he had been freed, but how long ago was that? How long had this creature lived? Between suspended animation and time travel, he doubted that Davros even knew how old he really was.

Davros examined an intricate bas-relief set into the very wall of the vessel, indeed, it covered most of the wall. It was some sort of historical record, it seemed to depict a group of bizarre entities fleeing some great cataclysm, and passing into a new existence. It was centered around a strange, slug-like creature, as she, (Davros deduced that it was either a female or a hermaphrodite), gave birth to a tentacled horror on a desolate world, then retreated to another plane.

_Fascinating_. "Mikaboshi," He indicated the relief of the strange entities, "What does this represent?"

"It is _The Journey of The Great Old Ones_, depicting their arrival in our universe." The Great Old Ones, Davros had heard of them in rumor and wild tales told by madmen, but it _was_ possible for such creatures to exist. . ."And whom is this?" He pointed a gleaming metal finger at a depiction of Shub-Niggurath. "She is my _mother_. That is all you need to know." Davros scowled, but said nothing.

"I had expected The Doctor to save me, he is a sentimental fool." "Sorry to disappoint you," Mikaboshi smiled. "Though I'm sure The Doctor tried. He just arrived a little late." Davros gave a derisive snort. "How does he expect to defeat his enemies, when he is constantly sparing their lives? His sense of 'mercy' will be his undoing." The youth shook his head, "Perhaps he wishes to save their souls, or, more likely, his own."

"Yes," Davros voice became calm, with a hint of contemplation, "He is trying to atone for his sins. Compassion. Remorse. Weaknesses, weaknesses _I_ do not posses." He smiled, "Rassilon understood." Mikaboshi visibly bristled at the name 'Rassilon', Davros noted this, as he noted everything, "_He_ saw the basic truth of the universe. The only way to survive is to destroy all threats to your purity."

Mikaboshi indicated his agreement of Davros' description of Rassilon's philosophy, "Rassilon was pure in only one way, _evil_."

"Bah! Spare me your moralistic whimpering! There is no good, no evil, only survival! And I. . . _We_ shall survive! We shall live on!" His voiced was rising both in pitch and volume, "The Daleks will be the ultimate power in the universe!" He calmed somewhat, then, softly, "Let The Doctor save lives to ease his conscience. While he is wasting his time, we will be marshaling our forces." There was a hint of dark humor in his voice.

Sargon rarely judged others, after all, he had been forced to do things he wasn't proud of to survive, alone, on Jagaron. But he could understand why Maedar had refused to meet with Davros. The charitable part of his nature told him that Davros was mad, not responsible for his actions. But he could not look at the man without thinking of all the evil, the pain and suffering, he and his creations had caused. From what he understood of the Kaled - Thal war, Davros must have grown up in a horrible world. But so had he, and he wasn't willing to kill even an animal. Davros had wiped out his entire species, the Kaleds, because they threatened to stop his work on the Daleks, then proceeded to destroy the entire Thal race as well. He had _chosen_ to follow the path of violence and hate, he had been, time and again, given opportunity to repent. To change. And he had refused. He belonged in a jail, or an asylum. . .

And Mikaboshi seemed captivated by him. Sometimes, Sargon feared for his friend.

"Mikaboshi," he whispered, " We should turn him over to The Shadow Proclamation." Mikaboshi just shook his head, and whispered, "We _can't_. It's not how it works. The timeline must be preserved."

"Do you judge me?" There was a hint of anger in Davros' soft voice, obviously, his hearing was better than they had anticipated, "Think first of your precious Doctor, before you judge me."

Mikaboshi shrugged, "The Doctor is no innocent, he activated _The Moment_, you could hardly call that saving lives. He murdered the last of the Racnoss," Davros detected a note of anger there, "Destroyed a colony with thousands of Homo Reptilia. . ." Davros grinned triumphantly, "He is a butcher _The Destroyer of Worlds_! Doctor! Ha! He is no healer, he is a murderer, but he hides the truth from himself! Even a child such as you can see it!"

The Jagaroth boy was setting cups of tea on the huge, obsidian table, three cups. Davros had not had tea in centuries, but there was something else on his mind. What _was_ Mikaboshi? Davros recognized the Jagaroth well enough, but his sensors were giving him contradictory information on the boy Mikaboshi. He read a fair amount of Time Lord DNA, but the rest was something he had never seen before. It did not seem to belong to this universe at all.

"What are you, Mikaboshi?" Davros asked, "You say that you are not a Time Lord, yet you posses Time Lord DNA." "I am not a Time Lord, I am. . . _Was_ a Gallifreyan. I never graduated The Academy and thus carry no title. Like you, I had an. . . _Incident_." Mikaboshi indicated Davros' life support system, "I was rebuilt using alien genetic material. I am a hybrid." Davros noted that the tea was excellent, "You stated that you opposed the Time Lords, how?" His voice was gentle, he could get far more information through simple courtesy. "I went back to The First Great Time War and hid thousands of Great Vampires from Rassilon and his band of murderers, I broke the laws of Gallifrey by going to the End of the Universe, by saving races that otherwise would have gone extinct, I allied myself with races who were enemies of the Time Lords." "I have heard of The Great Vampires," Davros said smoothly, a hint of respect in his voice, "Impressive creatures, possessing the power to literally drain the life from an entire world. I can see why the Time Lords feared them so." He paused for a moment, " Tell me, Mikaboshi, do you _hate_ the Time Lords?" Davros took a sip of tea as Mikaboshi considered. This was fascinating, indeed.

"Some, perhaps most."

"And The Doctor?"

Mikaboshi shook his head in the negative, "I resent him for some of his actions, but I also owe him a great deal. He and the Master slew Rassilon. I suppose I owe _you_, as well."

"Really? How?" Davros was truly surprised by that admission.

"If not for the Daleks and The War, Rassilon and the High Council would have been searching for me."

Davros laughed, he liked this boy. His entire planet, his species had been exterminated, and he cared only that it had distracted his enemies from pursuing him.

"Don't you feel any regret?" Sargon asked. Davros turned toward him, "_Regret_? I have nothing to regret! What I have done was for the good of the Dalek race!" "What about the Kaled race? What about _Nyder_?" Mikaboshi asked. "Nyder. . ." Davros looked back across the long, barren landscape of time. Nyder had been his right hand, the closest thing he had ever had to a friend. He had obeyed his orders without question, even allowing the Thals to destroy the Kaled race, his _own_ race, to help Davros protect his Daleks. And the Daleks had destroyed him as he tried to carry out Davros' order to shut down the Dalek Production Lines, just before they had turned on Davros himself. Nyder was long since dust, as was all Davros had ever known before he had crafted his lethal masterpieces. Nyder had been a useful man, a trusted ally. . . For the first time in centuries, Davros felt. . . No, it could _not_ be. . .

"No." He replied flatly, "Nyder would have died anyway, in time. The Daleks merely. . . Spared him the pangs of old age. And the Kaleds. . ." His voice rose a bit, "The Kaleds opposed me, tried to destroy my creations! _They_ betrayed _me_ !"

"So did your creations. They have tried to exterminate you, they have used you, enslaved you. You took your own flesh from your bones to create a Dalek Empire, and they kept you imprisoned, locked away. And you know, _you know_, that had you succeeded with the Reality Bomb, they would have exterminated you! Your _own flesh_ turned against you, Davros!" Mikaboshi's voice had risen a little in pitch, to Sargon it appeared he was becoming almost as emotional as Davros, "They _cannot_ accept you because you are different, they will never accept you! Don't you understand, if Daleks made from your own flesh turned against you, how can you trust them to serve you? You could save yourself so much pain and frustration if you. . ."

"I am their _Creator_! They _will_ accept me! They will serve me!" Davros screamed, and his metal fist came down hard upon the console of his life support system, hard enough to shake the entire machine, "_They will serve me_!" He screamed shrilly.

Mikaboshi shook his head, and Sargon felt a sense of pity for this poor, deluded creature.

Davros struggled to regain control, "I will succeed, eventually. It is destiny." His voice had softened to a whisper, "Every scientific advancement has its false starts, its difficulties. Birthing pains. I will regain control, and the universe will lay at my feet."

"Perhaps. . ." Mikaboshi propped his head on his hands, "The future _is_ fairly fluid. The End we saw is only one possibility out of an infinite sea of probabilities. . ."

"But, the Futurekind, they exist, now. We brought them back in time from The End of The Universe." Sargon objected, "You do not understand, child. That was only one reality, that universe will still exist, but it may not be _our_ future, it may be someone else's." Davros actually seemed happy for the moment, being a tutor. "Every action we take, or do not take, creates a parallel universe. In a parallel, for instance, in which the Thal attack that left me like this never occurred, I would have died either by violence or old age, and would not exist at this point in time. In another, someone else may have created the Daleks. I do not blame you for your confusion, with so many possible outcomes, the sheer number of parallels is beyond even _my_ comprehension. Some refer to this collection of infinite realities as '_The Multiverse_'" Sargon shook his head, "But, I thought that there were _Fixed Points_ in time, that could not be changed." Davros smiled, "That is partially true. So called 'fixed points' _can_ be changed, but only with serious consequences to that reality, that universe could be transformed beyond recognition or utterly destroyed beyond that point. For instance, if I went back and assassinated Rassilon before he discovered the secrets to time travel, there would be no Time Lords, and everything the Time Lords had ever done would cease to exist outside of this vessel and any others that happened to be outside of normal time and space at the time of the assassination. It would likely destroy this entire reality, but other realities, similar to this one, would still exist. And we would be the only ones with knowledge that our reality had ever even existed. As time travelers, we have the opportunity to see what _could_ have been, by seeing it through parallel dimensions." Sargon nodded, "I think I understand. Infinite universes, infinite possibilities."

"Hold on," Mikaboshi said, "If that's true, then your Reality Bomb should have destroyed us, as it was supposed to flow into every universe through the rift, destroying every parallel reality. And you must have been successful in other realities." Davros paused, the boy was right, he couldn't have failed in _every _reality. "Perhaps I underestimated the barriers between realities, the multiverse may have a way of protecting itself as if it were a living thing. A fascinating riddle, is it not? But fortunate for us, I believe we will all agree." He had no argument there.

"By the way, creating a weapon that disrupts the electrical field that binds all matter was genius." Mikaboshi said, "Incredibly heinous, unspeakably evil, but brilliant beyond words." Davros beamed with pride, "Why thank you, child. Your tiresome moral considerations aside, I like to think that it was one of my greatest works." Sargon shuddered, it might have been brilliant, but it was not an achievement worthy of any kind of honor. He had seen too much war and pain and death to admire any weapon, no matter how incredible its design or theory. As a pacifist and a victim of war, he knew that a weapon is an item to kill, and one that could destroy everything in the multiverse was certainly not an _Objet d'Art_.

He found no beauty in any of it.

Sargon found Davros both pitiful and terrifying, obviously mentally ill, possibly not responsible for his actions, but capable of (And in some cases, having committed) some of the worst atrocities in history. How much was insanity, and how much was pure evil? Either way, Davros needed to be contained somewhere where he could do no damage.

_I'm afraid that's not possible_, Maedar's voice spoke in his mind, _Davros, and the Daleks, must fulfill their destiny. As horrible as they are, the universe requires that they survive. It is a necessary evil._

They finally arrived. Skaro. Home of Davros and his abominations. This was not the original Skaro, of course, which had been destroyed by _The Hand of Omega_, but one of several other worlds the Daleks had ravaged and renamed Skaro. It would serve its dark purpose as well as any world.

As soon as Davros crossed the threshold onto the lifeless soil of Skaro, The _Maedar_ vanished. Mikaboshi did not want to experience Dalek 'hospitality' or Davros' 'gratitude'. To Sargon, getting as far away from that monster as possible was the first sensible thing Mikaboshi had done since they'd saved him.

"Do you really believe Davros could win?" Sargon asked, "I mean, he's already won in some realities, if I understand correctly, but do you think he could win in this one?"

"No." Mikaboshi lied. He smiled, "But if it looks like he will, I'll use every power at my disposal, including my ties to The Great Old Ones, to stop him." That, at least, was the truth.

Sargon hoped that it would be enough.

To Be Continued. . .

Notes:

Did Mikaboshi save Davros from The Crucible? Probably not, he likely saved him from the consequences of yet another of his insane schemes. Can Davros eat and drink in canon? _Yes_, actually, though he has no taste buds (because of his injuries) and doesn't need to, his life support system makes it unnecessary. In this story he obviously still has a sense of taste.

_The Moment_ is the weapon The Doctor used to end The Last Great Time War, wiping out the Time Lords, most of the Daleks, and everything caught in between.

The 'tentacled horror' Shub-Niggurath gave birth to in the bas-relief is the Nestene Consciousness, the power behind the Autons. She gave birth on the planet Polymos, which the Nestene proceeded to bond with, effectively becoming the planet.

_The Hand of Omega_ is a stellar manipulator, it can create black holes, cause supernovas, and kill entire star systems in the wrong hands. It was created by the Time Lord Omega in his attempts to generate enough power to make time travel possible.

I have never had a chance to describe Sargon's human disguise. He has dark red hair, green eyes and freckles and stands about 5'7". He prefers to wear shades of green or black and appears to be about 16. Sargon already understood the existence of other dimensions, such as Shub-Niggurath's Realm, he just didn't understand the idea of _Parallel_ universes, or, to use Star Trek terms 'Mirror Universes'. In fact, he didn't know they existed.

Maedar is the humanoid Avatar of the vessel _Maedar_. He appears as an obsidian-colored male Gorgon.

My grasp of Theoretical Physics is poor at best, hopefully I got it mostly right. I don't understand the idea of a parallel that didn't happen, such as '_"The Year That Never Was_' from 'Last of The Time Lords'. It doesn't make sense. I think, more likely, it _did_ happen, but everyone aboard the _Valiant_ shifted into yet another parallel universe when poor Lucy 'killed' The Master, and that other reality still exists somewhere else in the Multiverse. Like _The Age of Apocalypse _from Marvel Comics, everybody expected the world to cease to exist when Apocalypse died, but it didn't. Bishop may have somehow left earth-616 (Mainstream Marvel Universe), or another parallel and ended up in earth-295 (The Age of Apocalypse), explaining his memories of Charles Xavier and a 'better' world, but killing Apocalypse only dulled the pain, it didn't rewrite history.

The 3rd Doctor destroyed a Sea Devil colony in the serial '_The Sea Devils_'.

Skaro was destroyed in The 7th Doctor serial '_Remembrance of The Daleks_', but another Skaro was seen in the _Doctor Who_ movie, and Skaro was also in The 11th Doctor serial '_Asylum of The Daleks_.' I don't know if the latter two were the same world or not, the Daleks seem to have named, (and renamed), several worlds _Skaro_. It seems the Daleks are sentimental when it comes to their old home world. . .

Nyder appears in The 4th Doctor serial '_Genesis of The Daleks_'. He was Davros' personal assistant and a leader in the Kaled Military Elite. His loyalty to Davros was so great that he helped Davros give the Thals the weapon to destroy the Kaled race, his own race. . .

Movellans were a race of androids resembling beautiful humanoids who nearly wiped out the Daleks with a virus, then vanished from the universe with no explanation. They appeared in The 4th Doctor serial '_Destiny of The Daleks_'.

The 10th Doctor slaughtered the Racnoss in '_The Runaway Bride_'. While it's true he gave the Queen a fair warning and a chance to save herself, her children had no such offer. I always thought it hypocritical that he condemned the Meta-Crisis Doctor for genocide against the Daleks, when he himself had committed genocide against the Racnoss.

_Davros, Daleks, Nyder, Kaleds, Thals, Movellans and Skaro_ belong to Terry Nation (Or his estate, as he passed away some time ago.)

_Doctor Who, Jagaroth_ etc belong to the BBC

_The Age of Apocalypse, Bishop, Charles Xavier etc_ copyright Marvel Comics

_Star Trek_ copyright Paramount Pictures


	4. Chapter 4

Mother's Day

"You'll love Paris. The Louvre, The Mona Lisa, did I tell you the story about the Mona Lisa?" The Doctor grinned impishly. "Only about six times. . ." Clara sighed "Well, there were seven of them, thanks to Scaroth, so I'll tell you again later. . . But now." The Doctor rubbed his hands together, " _Voila_! Paris!" He pulled the TARDIS' doors open to reveal. . . Something he'd never seen before. "Or not." He said. He ran a hand over his brow. "What is it?" Clara asked, stepping toward the threshold, holding out her hand, "Are we under water?" "Don't touch it! We have no idea what's out there." He rushed to the console as Clara continued to watch.

The TARDIS' doors had opened onto a vast, pale green expanse, with no horizon, no ground visible. No sky. Only an endless expanse of green. "Fluid? It's some kind of fluid, but it's not water. . . Odd, I'm not reading any land masses. And there are life signs unlike anything I've ever seen before." the Doctor was talking to himself, "And we're drifting. . ." Clara watched as a number of creatures, some resembling tadpoles, others squid, some slugs and others things she had never seen before, slid and swam through the green fluid. It was impossible, without any points of reference, to tell size or distance." "I don't believe this. . . _Quantum mnemonics_! Do you know what that means, Clara?" He frowned and scratched his head, "Hold on, do _I_ know what that means?" He shrugged, "I think we may have entered a pocket dimension of some kind."

"Doctor."

"Clara, whatever it is, don't touch it."

"I think you really need to see this. . ."

The Doctor looked up and out of the doors, then rushed forward.

It was massive, the size of a small moon, a huge, translucent entity, with internal organs pulsing and throbbing beneath its pinkish flesh. It was amorphous, vaguely suggestive of a slug. Strange lights flickered across its skin and within its body. The creature glided effortlessly through the viscous liquid, but the displacement caused by its movements tugged at the TARDIS like the tides. It seemed to regard them with curiosity, despite its lack of obvious eyes.

"I would not step beyond the threshold, you could not survive in this enviroment." The mental voice was like thunder, yet somehow, feminine. "Why has the mighty Doctor come here?"

"I was aiming for Paris. Where is '_here_'?" The Doctor replied nonchalantly. He'd seen bigger creatures, _defeated_ bigger creatures.

"This is my realm, the realm of _Shub-Niggurath_."

"Ah!" The Doctor smiled, "So _you're_ Shub-Niggurath! I wondered what you looked like, Mikaboshi never told me." He turned to Clara, "Clara Oswald, this is Shub-Niggurath, Shub-Niggurath, Clara Oswald." "Pleased to meet you." Clara half-whispered. She was becoming used to alien creatures, even of such a bizarre nature and massive scale. And the name Shub-Niggurath seemed familiar, but where would she have heard a name like _that_. . .

"I've heard a great deal about you as well, Doctor." A sense of amusement radiated from the creature's vast bulk, "You have met several of my children."

"The trouble with The Nestene Conciousness was not my fault, it was trying to invade earth. I had to stop it, I never intended. . ."

"You cannot kill my children, especially The Nestene." There was pride in her voice, and love, "It was conceived in The Old Reality, I carried it within my womb as I traveled from my universe into the one you know. It is as much a Great Old One as well as I. It _cannot_ die."

"It must have been difficult," the Doctor said sympathetically, "Heavily pregnant and enduring the destruction of your universe and the birth of mine."

"It was beyond even your comprehension, Doctor. I was so severely weakened, that, were I not immortal, I would have died. As it was, I retired here to rest. And it is here that I usually remain. Unlike Yog-Sothoth and the others, I have little interest in the affairs of lesser beings."

"But you saved Paracelsus, transformed him into Mikaboshi." The Doctor pointed out.

"I do not take pleasure in the deaths of others, as Hastur or Nyarlathotep do. I saw a dying child, and I saved him." There was a warmth in her voice, "He is one of my children now."

"I've got it!" Clara shouted, "Shub-Niggurath, The Black Goat of The Woods With a Thousand Young! From the books by that American. . . H.G. Lovecraft!"

"H._P_. Lovecraft." The Doctor corrected, "Howard Phillips Lovecraft. He was a very gifted psychic, he received all sorts of messages from The Great Old Ones, though he didn't always understand them. He transformed them into his stories."

Shub-Niggurath's vast bulk shuddered slightly, "Those earth writers make me out to be a perverted fertility deity, a common harlot. Humans have a disgusting preoccupation with sexuality." The Doctor just shrugged.

"What exactly _is_ a Great Old One?" Clara asked Shub-Niggurath directly.

"In simple terms, a Great Old One is any member of a group of beings who managed to survive the death of the universe previous to your own, gaining almost 'god-like' powers.' Few of us belong to the same 'species', and many are enemies or rivals. Some you would consider 'Evil' others 'Benevolent.'"

"And which are you?" The Doctor asked.

"Neither, I seek only the welfare of my children and a peaceful, quiet existence."

"Most commendable," The Doctor sighed, "If only more beings shared that philosophy."

"Why don't we go there, Doctor?" Clara asked.

"Where?" The Doctor asked absently.

"The universe before ours."

"Not even I am mad enough to dare to try to pass through the Birth of The Universe and the Death of the Pre-Universe. The TARDIS could never survive the strain." He shook out his sleeves, "Besides, it's impossible. Not even Rassilon could do it, and, if I'm not mistaken," He turned toward Shub-Niggurath, "Neither can you."

"Why would I want to go back?" Came the calm reply.

"Aren't you homesick?" Clara asked.

"Yes. But I am also a realist." She directed her voice toward The Doctor, and Clara heard a strain in her voice, a chord of ancient, ancient pain, "If you could go back, Doctor, would you return to Gallifrey, knowing its fate? Could you, after seeing your world burn to ashes, enjoy the beauty of it all, the company of friends whose deaths were assured?"

The Doctor's skin paled, his green eyes narrowed, and Clara saw a dark agony there, unlike anything she had seen before. "No." He turned quickly, his expression changing to benign madness, "Now, the question is, how did we get here, and how do we get out?"

"I can open a doorway for you, Doctor, as I said, this is _my_ realm." Shub-Niggurath offered, "As for how you came to be here, even I cannot answer that. You encountered Mikaboshi, boarded his vessel, most likely some particles of my essence still cling to you, and they drew you here."

A great hole opened in the vast green expanse, the lights of Paris twinkled through the opening like gems.

The Doctor turned, "Tell me," He whispered, "You're a Great Old One, you must possess knowledge beyond my comprehension. You must know, _what_ is Clara, and why do I keep meeting her in different points through history?"

"I cannot tell you without damaging the Time Web of your universe."

The Doctor slapped his forehead, "I should have known better. . ."

"Farewell Clara Oswald, beware Yog-Sothoth, The Great Intelligence. . ."

"Farewell, Doctor. May you find rest from your sorrow." the Doctor swallowed deeply, "Thank you. . ."

The TARDIS doors closed, and Shub-Niggurath watched complacently as the TARDIS went its way.

"Ah, well. Off to Paris and the Mona Lisa!" _I wonder_. . . The Doctor turned to Clara, "You wouldn't happen to secretly be a Jagaroth splintered throughout time and space, would you?"

To Be Continued. . .

Notes:

Yog-Sothoth = The Great Intelligence

Hastur = Fenric from the 7th Doctor serial, _The Curse of Fenric_ (One of the best serials of all!)

Quantum Mnemonics were the natural laws of the previous universe, which differed greatly from our own.

No, I don't mean to imply Clara is stupid, but she's adventurous, and what could be a greater adventure than exploring another universe? And I've called him H.G. Lovecraft myself on occasion! When I first wrote this, I misspelled his middle name as 'Philips', it's 'Phillips".

I wrote this simply because I wanted to describe my idea of Shub-Niggurath in the Whoverse. She has a great deal in common (physically) with the Elder Evil _Ragnorra_ from the D&D supplement _Elder Evils _by Robert J. Schwalb. I don't think Ragnorra _is_ evil, her intent is merely to recreate life as she believes it should be. She is not deliberately malicious. Shub-Niggurath, here, is merely a Neutral character, trying to care for herself and her offspring and minding her own business.

Shub-Niggurath's Realm is a cross between _Fluidic Space_ from Star Trek: Voyager and _The Far Realms_ from Dungeons and Dragons.

I guess you can list The Nestene Consciousness, Maedar and Mikaboshi as among The Thousand Young of Shub-Niggurath.

Clara has never met Mikaboshi, but The Doctor told her about him. She knows about the Time Lords and the destruction of Gallifrey, but not _how_ it happened. In the episode '_Journey To The Centre of The TARDIS_' she found a book that told her everything, but that timeline was erased. . .

Scaroth, the Jagaroth, Paris and the seven Mona Lisas appear in The 4th Doctor serial '_City of Death_'

Everything _Doctor Who_ is copyright BBC

_Ragnorra_ and _Elder Evils_ copyright TSR and Wizards of The Coast

_Fluidic Space_ and _Star Trek: Voyager_ copyright Paramount Pictures

_The Far Realms_ and _Dungeons and Dragons_ copyright TSR and Wizards of The Coast


	5. Chapter 5

English Blood

London, 9th June, 1889

Madame Vastra knelt to examine the corpse. Bloodless, completely bloodless. just like the others. The scent of blood was strong, but there was no blood at the murder scene. She stared through the thick veils that concealed her reptilian features from the general populace of London, noting the twin puncture marks on the victim's neck. The Inspector knelt beside her, "It's _him_." She said bluntly, the scent of male was as unmistakable as that of blood. Male, and utterly inhuman. The crowds huddled around, kept at bay by the police, were murmuring, fear was rippling through the crowd.

And there was something else.

She looked into the crowd, her keen senses honing in on a youth of apparent Asiatic descent. He was dressed in the clothing of a simple Chinese laborer, but his features appeared slightly _different_ and he lacked the traditional queue of the Chinese humans she had encountered in the past. A disguise, then. But closer examination revealed that he was neither Chinese nor a member of any other human ethnic group. He lacked the scent of blood, or, in fact, _any _recognizable scent at all. His black eyes met hers, and she saw a deep sadness, and guilt, within them. Then, he vanished into the crowd. "Strax."

The Sontaran rushed to her side, "Did you see that Oriental boy? Follow him."

"What is an "Oriental?"" Strax asked, and she sighed, to Sontarans, all humans looked alike.

"That boy with the black hair and blue garments, follow him, bring him to the house, if it's not already too late." She hissed. "And don't hurt him!" It wasn't the Sontaran's fault, really, but she couldn't pursue the boy herself with the body at her feet, and she was fairly certain he was not the killer. He didn't fit the description, their 'vampire' was about 1.6 meters tall, bald and dressed in a voluminous cloak.

This boy was no killer. She could see it in his eyes.

But he wasn't _human_, either.

Mikaboshi leaned against the wall of a narrow alley, trying to keep from becoming sick. This was the _third_ killing in London, that he knew of. He should have stayed, told Lady Vastra what she was up against. . . But it was his responsi. . .

"Are you the "Oriental" Boy?" Mikaboshi turned, normally he would have laughed at the Sontaran's comment, but he didn't feel like laughing right now, "Yes, I suppose I am." His voice was low, almost a whisper. Strax grabbed him roughly by the arm, "Madame Vastra wishes to talk to you."

There was no need for disguise in the Lady's home.

"You are not human." Madame Vastra sat back in her chair, her reptilian face bared to the young man.

"Neither are you." He replied, as his eyes took in the hot, humid jungle she had managed to recreate within a Victorian London home. "You are Homo Reptilia, and your friend there is a Sontaran."

Vastra's eyes narrowed, how could he know that? The Sontarans were well known throughout space, but her own people. . . She maintained a cold, calm demeanor, noting the boy was doing the same.

She took a sip of something that was _not_ red wine, and he felt a little sick, "You have me at a disadvantage, it seems, young man. Who or _what_ are you, and what connection do you have to these murders?"

"I am Mikaboshi. . ."

"Japanese deity of evil and stars, correct?" She smiled, revealing sharp teeth. Little was known about Japan in the 'Western World', they were an insular people, a fact not helped by the American Commodore Matthew Perry and his fleet of 'Black Ships' forcibly opening Japan to Westerners in July of 1853. The Japanese people were then thrust into a truly brutal civil war over international relations, xenophobia and internal power struggles. The war had been over about a decade now, but it was still a 'mysterious' culture to most. Vastra made it a point to learn all she could about the various human ethnic groups. Mikaboshi had disguised himself as a Chinese boy, a common enough sight, to avoid attention.

"I am no deity. I am a. . . . _Hybrid. _As for my connection to these murders. . . I fear. . . I am responsible for them." There was anguish mixed with rage in his soft voice.

"When the very _sight_ of blood makes you pale?" There was humor in her voice, "You are not our killer."

"No. I did not kill them, not personally. But I brought their killer here." He shook his head, "I know that _you_, Commander," He turned to Strax. "Will have heard of The First Great Time War."

Madame Vastra was stunned, Time War? As in. . .

"Yes, it was one of the greatest military actions in history," For once, Strax was in _his _element, "The Time Lords fought the Great Vampires in a war of mutual extermination. It is said entire galaxies died in the conflict, before Rassilon vanquished the Vampires."

"Great Vampires?" Vastra swirled the contents of her cup, "_Vampires_. . ." The Penny Dreadfuls had been full of tales of vampires since the killings began, and Vastra was swiftly becoming a believer.

The boy shook his head, "It was a war of genocide, The Great Vampires did not choose to fight, they were attacked, _slaughtered_ by Rassilon out of his fear that they might challenge his power." His voice deepened somewhat, rage flashed in his eyes.

"And you saved some of them? Brought them here?" It was more a statement than a question.

"Impossible," Strax said, "The Great Vampires were giants, even their young were far larger than humans."

"Isn't it obvious, he _shrunk_ them." Vastra smiled, the puzzle was coming together quickly now.

"But The First Great Time War was billions of years ago, you'd have to be a time traveler. . ." Strax suddenly understood, this boy was, indeed, a time traveler.

Mikaboshi looked into Vastra's eyes, there was a dark humor there. "I hid them throughout time and space, to protect them from Rassilon's butchery, and some I hid on earth."

"And now you can't control them. How typically shortsighted, saving a dangerous species and expecting them to become docile little lambs."

"No!" He shouted as the young woman dressed as a maid entered. Jenny, Vastra's wife. "It is only _one_ of them. They are not such fools as to prey upon humans, and so _openly_! Now I must find him, stop him before he kills again. . ."

"Who?" Jenny asked, "The Vampire?"

"Yes," Vastra replied, "Thanks to this young man, we have a _true_ vampire in our midst." She nodded, indicating Mikaboshi, "Jenny, this is Mikaboshi, he's a an alien who travels through time. Mikaboshi, this Jenny, my wife."

"A pleasure," He gave a short, respectful bow. "A pity it is not under better circumstances."

"You are not surprised?"

"Four people, three who are not human, are in a jungle inside a mansion in Victorian London planning to kill a Vampire from another universe. . ." He smiled.

"Point taken." Vastra conceded. "What do you mean, 'Vampire from another universe'?" She hated being in the dark about these creatures.

"During his experiments to create viable time travel, Rassilon, or more likely Omega, he did all the real work and received little of the credit, accidentally punched a hole into another universe. The Great Vampires came through that 'hole' into this universe." He sighed, "They shouldn't even have been here. We brought them here, then we _murdered_ them. . ."

"It sounds as if they came here voluntarily." Vastra pointed out, "Perhaps hunting for new sources of prey."

"But we opened the door." He shook his head sadly.

"_We_?" She looked Mikaboshi over, "Are you a Time Lord?"

"No, I am merely a traveler." He was infuriatingly vague.

"A traveler who defies the most powerful Time Lord in history, saves a race of lethal predators from extinction . . ." She stood, looking down at the youth, "If you are _not_ a Time Lord, then why do you say '_we_' brought them here, '_we_' murdered them?"

"I was. . . In another life, a Gallifreyan. But I was _never_ a Time Lord. I was. . . _Reborn_. Now I am something else entirely." Now he was being even more enigmatic than before, "What i am is unimportant right now, catching this killer is."

"True enough," She turned slightly, sipped her drink, "But you brought these dangerous predators here, without so much as a warning as to what you were doing?"

"With all due respect, My Lady," his voice was icy now, "Consider what it is _you_ are drinking before you judge them."

She smiled again, a fearsome smile, "The humans I kill are murderers, criminals. This being kills at random." "One out of hundreds," He shot back, "I'd wager more of _your_ people have murdered innocent humans than Great Vampires have." She hissed, but forced herself to hold back. It would be unseemly to attack an unarmed boy over a petty insult. And, it would have given his argument far more credence. . .

"Likely we _have_. But that is not the issue, who is this vampire, and how do we find him?"

"His name is Vecna. He is about 1.7 meters tall, bald, with pointed ears and will be wearing a cloak to hide his wings."

A look of shock crossed Jenny's face, "_Wings_?"

Vastra held up a hand, this was vital information, something she had not accounted for, "Are these wings functional? Can he fly?"

"Yes."

"Wonderful, a flying psychopathic vampire serial killer. . ."

"There are two Great Vampires in this area of the world, Darian lives in Ireland and feeds off of his sheep. Vecna was supposed to be living on a farm near Sussex, but I guess he tired of cattle." He shook his head, "The Great Vampires on earth are less than a dozen, and they keep in close touch, but Vecna has not been in contact with the others since I brought him here a year ago. I thought he was simply a loner. When I heard of the. . ." He swallowed hard, "Killings, I rushed here. He is the only Vampire not accounted for."

"Well," Vastra remarked, "We certainly know where he is now.

"A Great Vampire is incredibly hard to destroy, you have to completely destroy his heart, or sever his head. His flesh is so tough, only the finest steel can accomplish this. I have a katana aboard my vessel, the _Maedar_, that should kill him."

"No need," Jenny held out a long, thin sword, "Will this do?"

"I can use my disintegration cannon! It's been gathering dust for years. . ." Strax began excitedly, but Vastra cut him off, "It would kill him, but it could also turn half of London into atoms. . ."

Mikaboshi turned his face to the ground, "I am responsible for bringing him here, I should be the one to kill him."

"A katana, supposedly the finest swords on earth. . . Do you know how to use a katana?" Vastra looked him in the eyes, "Are you even capable of _killing_ someone?"

"I trained under the great Okita-Dono himself."

"Okita Sojiro-Taicho?" Vastra knew the name, a famed boy swordsman, a prodigy, and an incredibly dangerous young man. He had fought for the Shogunate, the losing party in the bloodbath, and had died in. . . She had to search her memory for a moment, _1868_. Tuberculosis, a horrible way to die.

"You've heard of him?" Mikaboshi shouldn't have been surprised that this remarkable woman knew of him, she doubtless memorized every bit of information that crossed her path.

"Have you _ever_ killed anyone?" She asked

"No"

"You could train under the best swordsmen in history, but if you are unwilling to kill, it is a waste of your time and theirs." He shrugged his shoulders, and averted his eyes from her gaze. She smiled, "Could you take that katana and take that vampire's head off? Watch the blood spurt from the stump of a neck. . ."

"Enough!' he shuddered, "You've made your point."

"If you are not a warrior you have no place in a battle!" Strax stated.

"I know that! But it's _my_ fault! I have to stop him!"

Jenny gently touched his shoulder, "You _can_ stop him, by helping _us_ stop him." Vastra set aside her drink, "Strax, my cloak." She turned to Mikaboshi, "I assume you have some way of tracking him, you wouldn't be so stupid as to leave a deadly alien on earth with no way of finding him." "Yes, the sensors on my ship will pinpoint his location, but he is fast."

"So am I." Vastra donned her concealing garments, 'And, for the record, both Jenny and I know how to use a katana. Let us make haste to your ship."

Mikaboshi shook his head, this woman was truly remarkable.

It was a statue. A Gorgon, full-length, and _male_. There was something about it's obsidian features, something almost, _alive_.

Between Mikaboshi and Strax, she had learned quit a bit about the Jagaroth before meeting Sargon, but his appearance was still something of a surprise.

"Sargon, this is Madame Vastra, Lady Jenny Flint, and Commander Strax." Sargon bowed respectfully. Vastra considered the Jagaroth. He had few facial features to read, and she had no reference for what to look for. He had a great, clear green eye and two thin breathing flaps, one on each side of his head, and they ended with tiny tendrils that swayed gently as he breathed. His thickly veined, green skin evoked the image of jungle vines strangling a tree, and his beautiful eye gleamed with humor and innocence, and a hint of sadness. He was utterly harmless. "I've heard many good things about you, My Lady." His voice was duophonic, evidently he spoke through the breathing flaps, perhaps he ate with them as well. . . "Thank you, young man." She looked around, the interior of the ship was decorated with wildly differing styles, both human and non-human, ancient, modern and future. The technical aspects, however, were minimal, streamlined for efficiency.

As they crowded around the minimalist podium that held the ships controls and sensors, Mikaboshi began to wonder if he had sacrificed a little too much form for function, especially when Strax elbowed him in the ribs, though he promptly apologized. Sargon and Jenny stood aside, watching. "I've heard of your battle at Demon's Run. It must have been horrible, all those. . . I honestly don't know what Lady Vastra's people call themselves, being killed by The Headless Monks like that." Jenny nodded, "It was, and it hurt to know that we'd brought them to their deaths, but they were soldiers, warriors, and understood the risks when they agreed to come." She smiled, "And she prefers the term _Earth Reptile_."

As Vastra looked over the map of London, she heard the soft conversation. Sargon was a kind one, and handsome, in an odd way.

"He's headed toward. . . The Limehouse district." She turned to Mikaboshi, "The katana, please."

The Limehouse district, famous, and infamous, London's version of Chinatown, and like any foreign community, viewed with great suspicion by many natives. There were the much referenced Opium houses and brothels, but those could be found anywhere in London. Mostly there were shops, shrines and the modest homes of good people trying to make a living in a strange and unfamiliar land. For all her genius, Madame Vastra never could understand human's fear and hatred of other humans based on such trivialities as skin color or eye shape.

People made way for the foursome, (Sargon had wisely stayed behind), and Mikaboshi held out a small device that tracked the Vampire. Madame Vastra knew every inch of Limehouse, of all London, she had to, criminals could hide anywhere. "He wouldn't fit in openly here," Mikaboshi said, "But that apparently hasn't stopped him before. . ."

They stopped before an old warehouse marked "Fresh Fish" in faded Cantonese. Jenny and Strax moved to circle the building, searching for possible escape routes, with the knowledge that there could very well be tunnels beneath the building. Madame Vastra, katana in hand, stood with Mikaboshi before the large warehouse doors. She walked forward, and pushed them open, rotting wood turning on creaking hinges. Mikaboshi followed, into pitch blackness. Vastra could see well in the dark, and it was apparent Mikaboshi could as well. What _was_ he, really, if not a Time Lord.

There was a sound of clapping from above, and both looked up to see a man sitting among the rafters. "I knew you would come, Mikaboshi. However, I wasn't expecting the great detective Madame Vastra to come with you." Vastra could easily make him out, tall, hairless, bat-like wings resting across his back, "Come down, and face justice like an honorable creature." Madame Vastra said calmly. "Ah, but I am _not_ an honorable creature, thus I decline." "Why, Vecna? Why did you do this, murder those people?" "_People_?" He laughed, "They are cattle, food. I am a _Great Vampire_, I will _not_ be reduced to table scraps like those weak fools you brought with with me." He cocked his head, sniffed almost theatrically, "I smell blood on you, reptile, _human_ blood. I see you, too, enjoy the finer things in life. I wonder what the public would say if they knew their Great Detective was a lizard who ate human flesh and drank human blood. . ." He snarled, revealing thick fangs, "How _dare_ you judge me!"

"I kill criminals, murderers like you. . . You kill indiscriminately. We are nothing alike!"

"Ah, The Lady doth protest too much. A human life is a human life, worth absolutely _nothing_. That is something we predators understand, even if some of us try to deny it. . ."

"You can't escape, Vecna. Give yourself up." Mikaboshi urged, but the Vampire just laughed, "And face what? A trial? Now _that_ would be a show! They would destroy me, these weak, mewing sheep, and _you_ would give them the tools to do so. No, I think _not_. . ." He smiled, "But, out of appreciation for saving my life all those years ago, Mikaboshi, I will let you watch as I drain this reptile dry!"

His wings spread, Vecna descended upon the pair as Lady Vastra drew her blade. There was a great roaring, a flash, and then the warehouse was filled with bright sunshine as the roof, and the Vampire, disintegrated into atoms.

Strax smiled proudly, cradling his disintegration cannon, "I admit, it lacks the sophistication of a blade, but it gets the job done."

Mikaboshi's face was ashen in the bright sunshine, "Why, Vecna?" He whispered, "_Why_?"

To Be Continued. . .

_Notes_:

I tried to be PC, but I figured that in the 1880s the accepted and common term would be 'Oriental'. No offense is intended.

I love Strax, he's hilarious.

_Vecna_ is a Neutral evil deity in Dungeons and Dragons and Ravenloft. He is a Liche (An undead wizard) and god of dangerous and evil secrets, hidden knowledge and intrigue.

Penny Dreadfuls were the tabloids of the 19th century, filled with all kinds of bizarre stories, the longest running story was probably, 'V_arney the Vampire, or The Feast of Blood_', about a vampire _Sir Francis Varney_, and his evil exploits (for some reason, he is named _Mortimer_ in the Marvel Comics adaptation of the story). It ran from 1845-1847. I toyed with the idea of naming the Vampire after him, but decided against it.

Marvel comics ripped him off decades ago with _Varnae_, the First Vampire and Lord of The Vampires. He is a completely different being than Sir Francis Varney. You can find his history at The Appendix to the Handbook of The Marvel Universe online, he has his own entry under Profiles, as does 'Mortimer' Varney.

I had to oversimplify the Japanese Civil War, you can find out more on Wikipedia under '_Bakumatsu_'. I don't know why I keep coming back to Okita Soji in my stories, I guess I see him as the Paragon of a Samurai, incredibly skilled, deadly in battle, gentle in civilian life, honorable, facing war and tuberculosis head on. . . Why would a peaceful being like Mikaboshi learn kendo in the first place? Because I needed a plausible reason for him to use a katana. It's certain he didn't fight in the Bakumatsu. He's no killer, though he might take out Rassilon given the chance.

_Homo Reptilia_ is one of the names for the creatures called _Silurians_ in Doctor Who, it is _not _a reference to her sexual orientation. I don't know if it's singular or plural. How did Mikaboshi know Jenny's name and that she was Vastra's wife? He's telepathic, one of the gifts of having the blood of a Great Old One, (Shub-Niggurath), in his veins.

_Omega_ was one of the first Time Lords, he created the Eye of Harmony that allowed time travel, but was caught in a black hole, drawn into another dimension and was driven mad. It wasn't an accident, but sabotage, though I'm not sure who was behind it. Mikaboshi, of course, blames Rassilon.

I've wondered about the dozens, maybe even hundreds of Silurian warriors Vastra brought to Demon's Run, were they all killed, or had many already left somehow? Either way, it would be a terrible loss for their tribe.

Everything _Doctor Who_ except Sargon and Mikaboshi are copyright BBC

_Varnae_ and _Mortimer Varney_ belong to Marvel Comics

_Vecna_ belongs to TSR Games and Wizards of The Coast


	6. Chapter 6

Consequences

"You brought a tribe of vicious, feral cannibals from The End of the Universe back through time and gave them their own world?!"

"Sure, it sounds bad when you put it _that_ way." Mikaboshi was utterly unrepentant.

The Doctor growled and pulled at his hair in frustration, "Do you realize what could happen?"

"The Futurekind are just humans who've evolved to survive under different circumstances, _Homo_ _Dentatis_, I call them. The world is a primitive one, no spaceships or nuclear weapons or such. . . They can't do any harm there. In fact, I'm more worried about some violent idiots coming along and harming _them_." He reached down to pick up a shell. "Most likely, they'll revert back to 'ordinary' _Homo Sapiens_ in a few generations. A pity, that, they're such a fascinating subsecies. . ."

"Hey! Look at this one!" Sargon reached into a tidal pool and pulled out a trilobite. He cradled it gently in his green, venous hands. It was a beautiful specimen of _Dicranurus Hamatus Elegantus_, with magnificent spines that more than earned its name. Excitement glittered in his clear green eye.

"Very nice, Sargon! Put it in with the others." Mikaboshi was genuinely enthused as Sargon waded in his thick, protective boots and carefully placed the trilobite in a water-filled container hovering over the rocks and water. "I should take them in, I don't want them to get too hot." It _was_ getting hot as the sun rose higher into the Devonian sky. Sargon pulled the container, set on an anti-grav pallet, into the _Maedar_ and out of history. The _Maedar_ was in the form of a Class I Jagaroth Transport Vessel, evoking unintentional memories of Scaroth and his doomed craft of the same model.

"Most of our trilobites are _Elrathia Kingii_, not surprising, when you consider the fact that they are the most frequently discovered trilobites in the fossil record. A few more of our spiny friends would give us a healthy breeding population." Mikaboshi stated happily.

The Doctor rubbed his eyes, this was going to be a long day. Mikaboshi and Sargon were capturing trilobites and other marine invertebrates for the _Maedar's_ aquarium and 'zoo', without thought as to possible consequences. He didn't see any real harm to the Web of Time in their actions, but they did not seem to care at all of any future implications.

Reckless.

But Mikaboshi understood Time, as far as anyone could, thanks to his, (unfinished), training at the Prydonian Academy and the tutoring of at least one Great Old One. Paracelsus, the youth who would become Mikaboshi, had been very gifted, but tended to allow his emotions to override his intelligence, which, in the end, cost him his life, (as Paracelsus),. Perhaps he did know what he was doing, _this_ time. The Doctor himself had a wide variety of ancient, otherwise extinct creatures in his private sanctuary, including trilobites. And they seemed to be attempting to replicate the environment, including microorganisms, and using the water from the sea itself to ensure the creature's comfort and safety.

But Mikaboshi had not known, or understood, the results of another act of preservation, and the consequences _then _had been lethal.

They were standing by the sea at low tide some time in the Devonian Period of earth's history, this had been where The Doctor had come to confront Mikaboshi. In an act of what could be called 'temporal vandalism', he had apparently been on safari, snatching up trilobites of various Orders and eras, as well as other extinct aquatic life, (and presumably terrestrial and aerial as well) throughout history to add to his private zoo. Knowing Mikaboshi, he would almost certainly release some of them into the wild in another time and place, perhaps the Third Moon of Delta Magna, to 'save' the species for the rest of the universe to enjoy.

"Why this time period, Doctor?" Mikaboshi asked, completely ignoring The Doctor's worries about the Futurekind, "It's so _hot_, why not a cooler period? And the oxygen/carbon dioxide content ratio here. . . A human could never survive. Luckily, none of us are human."

"I heard about Vecna. Madame Vastra told me everything." Mikaboshi's face fell and he paled, "I know what I have done was a mistake. But if you saw someone about to be _murdered_, would you not try to help them, even if you didn't know their character?" "If I knew that the creature had to sustain itself on blood, and almost certainly killed other sentients for food. . ." There was anger in his voice. "They can't help being vampires! Is it their fault they were born predators?!" Mikaboshi shot back. The Doctor looked into Mikaboshi's eyes, "At least you took the Futurekind to an _uninhabited_ world. Bringing Great Vampires to populated worlds is beyond irresponsible, it is _criminal_!

"You don't _know _ them, you met a Great Vampire _once_, their King, and yes, he fed on innocent. . ." "I know them _far_ better than that!" The Doctor snapped, "I was _there_, I've _fought_ them! Maybe you're right, maybe it _was_ wrong, but you never saw what they were capable of! You never saw the dead worlds, every living soul extinguished, to feed a _single_ Vampire!" He turned and poked his finger in Mikaboshi's chest, "So don't you _dare_ lecture me on something you know nothing about!" He stood straight, tried to calm himself, "When you told me the story of saving Great vampires, I thought it was funny, but it's _not_ so funny anymore."

Mikaboshi stood stunned, he'd seen this side of The Doctor before, while watching him interact with others, but to actually be berated by the man. . . Beneath all the kindness and loveable madness there was a dangerous being, as dangerous as Davros or Rassilon himself.

The Doctor turned and saw Sargon standing on the _Maedar_'s ramp, shocked. He composed himself, turned back to Mikaboshi, his voice stern, but not fierce, "You're right in that many Great Vampires were not evil, but some were. You wanted to help a people wronged by your ancestor, and that's noble. But good intentions don't excuse poor judgement." "I. . ." Mikaboshi's voice was weak, a slight tremor crept in, "I couldn't read their minds. I _tried_, but I couldn't. It was war, I didn't have the time or the right to pick and choose who would live and who would die." He looked away, "Outside of children, I had no way of telling warrior from civilian."

"You missed my point, Mikaboshi, _Paracelsus_, it wasn't wrong to save The Great Vampires." the Doctor's voice was soft, but still powerful, "You were right all along, Rassilon did provoke The War, and we did commit outright genocide against the Vampires, but we had to stop them somehow. They were draining the life from entire worlds. They had no way of returning to their home dimension,and that was our fault as well. We had sealed the breach to prevent more from coming through. But for the safety of the universe, they _had_ to be stopped. Rassilon's solution was to exterminate them, and we _obeyed_ him. That's no excuse, that's never an excuse, '_just following orders'_, but we did. Rassilon's motives were cowardly and evil, and our own actions against even their _young_. . ." He paused, and looked down at his hands, frowning, swallowed, and continued, "Sometimes I wonder but if I can ever be forgiven for all of the innocent blood on my hands." He looked to the sky, anguish clear upon his pale face, "S_hrinking_ them, it was so obvious, but we never saw it. We could have used any one of hundreds of ways in which we could have spared them _and_ protected the universe. But we were so filled with fear and rage over the deaths they caused that we blinded ourselves to any other options. I think, on some level, we _wanted_ to destroy them." He suddenly seemed ancient, weary. He looked toward the _Maedar_ and saw that Sargon had gone back inside. He must have realized that this was a truly private conversation, despite the shouting. "But I must suffer the consequences of my own actions, just as you must suffer yours. It was foolish and irresponsible to leave them on worlds already inhabited by sentient beings, and without even asking, or giving fair warning, to the natives, or determining whether or not they were dangerous."

There were tears in Mikaboshi's dark eyes, and pain. The Doctor hoped that he was not as emotionally fragile as that boy who had thrown himself into The Untempered Schism so long ago. . . "I know that. Believe me, I _know_ what I have done. . ." There was silence for a moment, the heat was becoming oppressive.

"How do you bear it? The guilt?"

"I don't. I run away." The Doctor replied quietly, "I simply run away." He shook his head, and gripped Mikaboshi's shoulder, "But that's the _wrong_ way to cope with guilt. You must overcome it, face your demons and prove that you are stronger than they are." He nodded toward the ship, and Sargon, "Having a good friend to support you, there is no better therapy in the universe."

"_A true companion is loving all the time__ , and is a brother that is born for when there is distress" _Mikaboshi quoted.

"Proverbs 17:17," The Doctor's voice was unusually reverent, "One of the greatest truths in the universe. Sargon really cares about you, and you really care about him, I know he'd be happy to help you. He's stronger than you think, else he wouldn't have survived as long as he has. Shub-Niggurath might even be able to help, who knows?" The Doctor smiled, "And, if that's not enough, you could always see a _Doctor_. . ."

As he put the last trilobite into the massive aquarium, Sargon thought about what Mikaboshi had done, what he was going through. Sargon was shocked by what he'd heard, but he knew it was true. Mikaboshi was dangerously reckless at times, but the incident with Vecna had hurt him terribly. But, as always, he tried to hide it from him, not wanting to cause him pain or worry. That was the way it always was, he treated him as if he were glass figurine that would shatter if rattled. But Mikaboshi never looked into his mind, out of respect, (Sargon did not fault him for that.), and so he had no idea what Sargon could endure, _had_ endured. He'd lived through The Final War, he'd survived on the streets of Jagaron for years, hiding from soldiers on both sides, suffering in ways most people could never imagine. He'd survived the destruction of his planet and and fought his way back from Death's Door, with Mikaboshi's help. Mikaboshi still viewed him as that sick, helpless boy he'd found dying on a doomed world. He was wrong. Sargon had walked with Great Old Ones, for God's sake. He could handle it. He walked past the eurypterid tank, then turned toward a nearby room, and a totally different life form. He stood beside the terrarium, gazing through thick, sulfurous steam at massive, predatory worms from some god-forsaken place Mikaboshi had visited before they met. Mikaboshi had a fondness for invertebrates, from the beautiful to the outright disgusting. For a moment, Sargon wondered how his friend had managed to capture these massive beasts. One was at least 2.3 meters long. . .

Mikaboshi stared out over the shallow sea, silent and weary, he turned toward The Doctor, "You didn't just come here to see the sights, did you?" The Doctor smiled, "Well, I _did_ see some magnificent trilobites. . . Now, it's getting far too hot to stand around talking to an old man like me. Go, talk to Sargon, he'll help you." The Doctor turned to step into his TARDIS, "Doctor," Mikaboshi called, "Thank you." "You're welcome," A serious look flashed over his features, "And _don't_ let it happen again."

Sargon realized that he had been treating Mikaboshi the same way as Mikaboshi was treating him. He had never confronted him for fear of harming him. After all, Mikaboshi had already committed _suicide_ once. . . But it was far more dangerous to let his problems simmer. They would have to talk about it, he had waited too long already to address his friend's emotional state. He had to do something, _now_. He decided then and there that he would tell him that he could help him, if he wanted it or not. He owed him at least that much. He walked back to the foyer. As slow footsteps echoed within the _Maedar_, he turned to see a weary Mikaboshi, "Mikaboshi, I'm stronger than you think. I can help you. You _can_ confide in me." To his surprise, Mikaboshi nodded his assent, "I know. And I'd be grateful for it. Can we talk awhile. . ." "Y-yes, of course." Sargon gave the Jagaroth equivalent of a smile.

Later that night, as Mikaboshi lay in bed, he thought about what The Doctor had said, when referring to The First Great Time War, he kept using personal pronouns. He could have been referring to Time Lords in general, but, the way he said it, the things he described in such detail. Suddenly, Mikaboshi remembered, he had admitted to being there, to _personally _fighting the Vampires. Oddly, he felt no vindictiveness towards him, he understood now why the Time Lords had started the war, even if he disagreed with it. It was such a tragedy, the Vampires shouldn't even have been in this dimension. . . But, The First Great Time War was fought during The Dark Times, almost at the very beginning of the universe. Before Omega paved the way for time travel. Before the Gallifreyans became Time Lords. The Doctor would not have gone back so far simply to help Rassilon kill Vampires, it was against his nature. But that implied that The Doctor had lived _before_ the Time Lords had come into existence. . . _What_ was he? _Who_ was he?

Right now, it didn't matter. He had to make peace with himself, and be a good friend to Sargon and Maedar.

That was what really mattered.

To Be Continued. . .

Notes:

_Homo Dentatis_ - Toothed Man. If you've seen the Futurekind, you'll understand the name.

I hope I got my trilobite facts right. I don't know if these specific trilobites would be found in shallow water or not. I chose a particularly beautiful Order, Lichida, Family Odontopleuridae, without any real knowledge of its habitat. Fossils are about 2" in length, if you count the magnificent spines. The trilobite is the Official State Fossil of both Pennsylvania and Wisconsin, U.S.A.

I have trouble with the Biological Classification Charts, I tend to lump everything under 'Species'. Here's my favorite (vertebrate) animal, for reference.

Kingdom - Animalia

Phylum - Chordata

Class- Mammalia

Order - Carnivora

Suborder - Feliforma

Family - Hyaenidae

Subfamily- Hyaenine

Genus - Crocuta

Species - Crocuta Crocuta

Common Name - Spotted/Laughing Hyena

And I've probably missed something. . .

So, if I got Orders and Phylums confused with the trilobites, you can see why. . .

If there was one prehistoric, extinct creature I could bring back, I would choose the humble trilobite.

The 4th Doctor encountered, and killed, the King of The Great Vampires in the serial '_State of Decay_'. I've never seen that serial, so I can't say anything about his opinion of Great Vampires then, but if it was anything like his opinion of the Jagaroth, he wasn't particularly displeased with their destruction.

The 4th Doctor traveled to the swampy Third Moon of Delta Magna in '_The Power of Kroll_'.

As close as they are, Mikaboshi and Sargon are not intended to be lovers. If you want to think that they are, I won't tell you what you can think and what you can't. I don't have the right to do so. Ultimately it is the reader who brings life to a story, through their own unique interpretation. It's up to you, not me, in the end.

The giant worms are based on the _Carnictus Sordicus_ from the movie _Kong_, (the worms that ate Lumpy) and the Precambrian Worms from _Primeval_. I think Mikaboshi payed several visits to Kong Island.

Everything Doctor Who copyright BBC

_Kong, Kong Island_ and _Carnictis Sordicus_ are copyright Universal Studios

_Primeval_ is copyright BBC and Impossible Pictures


	7. Chapter 7

Sargon

Sargon knelt beside the squat, grey creature and patted its blunt, warty head, "Hello, Rhodney, are you hungry?" The pitbullfrog grunted, and opened his mouth, displaying several rows of shark-like teeth. The Jagaroth dropped a thick pork chop into his toothy jaws, and Rhodney began to crunch it, bones and all. "Good boy." Pitbullfrogs were illegal on several worlds, due to violent, greedy fools who used them as fighting animals, but, properly trained, they could make excellent pets. The idea of sentient beings taking pleasure in forcing animals to slaughter each other disgusted Sargon to no end. However, like all efficient predators, like all animals in general, they could be dangerous if improperly handled. Rhodney finished the meal as Sargon washed his hands.

Sargon picked up his holo-shroud and activated it. He stood before the mirror in his room, studying the face that he wore among humans. Pale, smooth skin, thickly dotted with freckles, two clear green eyes set beneath straight crimson hair. Not bad looking, for a human. A voice synthesizer disguised his tell-tale, duophonic Jagaroth voice. The hologram translated his emotions, best it could, into human facial expressions. He could even eat and drink, thanks to technology Mikaboshi had found in the human mask his fellow Jagaroth, Scaroth, had carelessly left on the floor of his château, after murdering his wife in cold blood. Since he intended to erase humanity from history, he doubtless decided it would be pointless to keep it. And equally pointless to keep his unfortunate wife, who would have ceased to have ever existed had Scaroth succeeded. Sargon barely remembered his parents, but he knew that they had loved one another. He wondered how, and why, Scaroth could marry a human, live happily with her for years, and then murder her. Perhaps she was a pretty bauble to show off, or just another facet of his disguise. A man and his wife, what could be more ordinary? Scaroth had lived twelve separate, but interconnected, lives throughout time, and thus had plenty of time to create devices of great use to Jagaroth seeking to disguise themselves from other races. He wondered how Lady Vastra, with no disguise save, literally, a thin veil, survived unnoticed in Victorian London, as a public figure, no less. Strax, the Sontaran, wore no disguise whatsoever. A Sontaran could, at a distance, be mistaken for a human, but a Jagaroth would stand out like a signal flare on a moonless night.

He wished that it were possible to have let Scaroth know that he was not the last of the Jagaroth, that his people had survived, to spare him all those centuries of guilt and misery and madness. But it was impossible, Scaroth's contribution to humanity's history had been so great, any change would have deep and unpredictable repercussions. Scaroth had, in his human guises, taught man to use fire, invented the wheel, introduced mathematics, mapped the heavens, designed the pyramids of Egypt. . . Human development would be retarded by hundreds of thousands of years if Scaroth had not guided it's evolution, pushing it forward toward his goal of creating time travel to save his race. If he had known that the Jagaroth survived, he would have no such motivation. It was horribly cruel, but in the end, they had no choice. Scaroth's sanity over the lives of every human who had, or would have, ever lived, was no choice at all.

Rhodney croaked loudly, "Sorry boy," He turned to Rhodney, "But today, you have to stay here." The pitbullfrog whined, but obeyed. Sargon didn't want to attract the attention of Torchwood or UNIT. Both groups considered Mikaboshi a _Priority One Threat_ since the incident with Vecna, and he honestly couldn't blame them. Mikaboshi was trying hard, but the dangerous combination of great power, good intentions and bad decisions was difficult to reconcile. At least he was trying now. "And stay off the bed. . ."

Eschewing fancy dress, Sargon chose blue jeans, a Hedorah t-shirt and a jean jacket, with black sneakers. Then, he left the _Maedar_. The sun shown brightly from a pale blue sky, glinted off of automobiles and glass windows set in buildings of various shape and height. People walked by as Sargon made his way through the streets. This was his first time going it alone, on earth, but he had finally convinced Mikaboshi that he could take care of himself. The warmth was a welcome change from their last trip, where Mikaboshi had taken him to the frozen planet Tella to meet the reclusive Leeth, a Jagrafess who designed machines and cybernetics to make life easier for non-humanoid sentients such as himself. Leeth, like all of his kind, required cold temperatures to survive, and Tella was indeed cold. Outside of Leeth, the only inhabitants of Tella were his reprogrammed Movellan servants, survivors of their disastrous attack on the Second Empire. It was good to be around warm, living people again.

Mikaboshi himself was busy aboard the _Maedar_, one of the Slythers had nearly gotten free of its enclosure, and now he and Maedar were manually inspecting all of the enclosures, terrariums and aquariums. That would take some time, so he was free to do as he pleased for a while.

It gave him a chance to get away from the madness.

Sargon enjoyed music, art, literature. But he lived in a virtual museum, all of that was, to use a human expression, _old hat_. And he had grown up on a battlefield on a dying world. Sargon had never had any kind of comforts as a child, his life had been one of hardship, fear and suffering. He didn't need to be spoiled, in fact, he was uncomfortable in 'sophisticated' society. His wants, his needs, were simple. He preferred the quiet beauty of nature, of ordinary life with ordinary people.

He walked until he found nearest park, sat on bench, and just watched. Kids playing football, families, birds and dogs and laughter. Peace.

The sight of people sitting out in the open, children playing without even the concept of danger, made him think of Jagaron. Earth had its wars, its psychopaths, its terrorists, but it was infinitely better than Jagaron. It would have been suicide to go out into the open like this on his home world, snipers and bombs were everywhere. Instead of birdsong there had been the whistling of mortars, the buzzing of lasers. Even the air itself was deadly, so radioactive that most creatures were already dead when the planet was finally blown apart in one last, futile battle in a meaningless war. These people had no idea how lucky they were, how blessed to inhabit a living world. . .

"Mind if I join you?" Sargon turned to see an elderly man standing beside the bench, "Of course not, sir." Wilfred Mott smiled, despite his rough dress, this young man was apparently well-mannered. A rarity these days. "My name's Sean." He extended his hand, which the old man gripped firmly, "Wilfred Mott." A look of surprise crossed Sargon's face, Wilfred Mott; grandfather of Donna Noble, the woman who had defeated the Daleks and destroyed the Reality Bomb. Mott himself was a hero, having faced down The Master, Daleks and even Rassilon himself. "You've heard of me?" Wilfred asked, surprised. "Of course, you're a hero." Sargon's voice was filled with awe. "I wouldn't say that," Wilfred sat beside him, "I did my bit during the war. . ." He had been stationed in North Africa during WWII, and was proud of the fact that he'd never taken a life. But a _hero_? Unless the boy wasn't talking about WWII. Which meant he knew about. . ."You helped save the world. The universe, even." Sargon was confident that such a man could handle his alien nature. He had faced down Daleks, after all. "You're an alien, aren't you?" Wilf whispered, "Yes, I'm a Jagaroth. My real name is Sargon." Wilf shook his head, what were the odds? In a way, it wasn't that surprising, he seemed to attract aliens like a magnet. "And you've heard of me?" "Most of the universe had heard of you, sir, and your granddaughter." The Doctor had said that entire races owed their lives to Donna, that, for a brief, shining moment, she had been the most important woman in the universe. But what had _he_ done, really? He wondered what things The Doctor might have said about him, _The Doctor_. . . A terrible thought struck him, "Did The Doctor send you? Is somethin' wrong?" Sargon shook his head, "Nothing's wrong. I do know The Doctor, but he didn't send me, and I don't travel with him. I just came here to get away from my ship for a while. I needed some peace and quiet." Wilfred Mott hadn't the slightest idea of what a Jagaroth was, but he understood the need for peace and quiet.

Sargon knew that this man had seen, with his own eyes, the death of Rassilon. Mikaboshi would want to meet him, to hear about his hated ancestor's death from one of the firsthand witnesses, but Sargon didn't want to make the old man re-live the death of anyone, even Rassilon. He wasn't going to call Mikaboshi here, to spoil the tranquility of the moment.

"Is he here? The Doctor, I mean?" Wilf asked eagerly. "I don't know, sir, I travel with my friend, Mikaboshi." "Is _he_ a Time Lord, or a Jagaroth?" "He's. . . _Unique_. He has some Gallifreyan blood, but most of it's utterly alien. It's complicated." Wilf considered for a moment, this boy, whatever he was, was just looking for some peace and quiet, he wouldn't want to be interrogated by an old man like him. "I'm sorry, you probably wanted to be alone. I didn't mean to bother. . ." He made to leave. "Wait. You're not intruding, sir. It's an honor to meet you." Sargon welcomed the older man's company, he seemed a fine man, no wonder The Doctor was fond of him. Wilf chuckled, and sat beside him. "Never thought anybody'd be honored to meet me." "You're far too modest, sir."

"What is a Jagaroth, exactly?" Wilf consciously decided to change the subject, he didn't want praise or, worse, adoration, "Are you like the Vinvocci?" "Well, we're both _green_. . ." Sargon pulled out his wallet and produced a small card, his library card from the Library World . Wilfred squinted, trying to make sense of the green, one-eyed, mouth-less, ear-less, hairless face that peered back at him. He looked up at Sargon, then back at the card, "I'm wearing a disguise." Sargon explained. Wilf handed him back the card, "It's a hell of a good one." They both laughed.

"We almost destroyed ourselves, the Jagaroth, I mean." His voice turned serious as he looked out over the fields, the happy people, "I grew up on a world torn apart by war. My childhood was spent in the cross-fire on a battlefield of a planet. I saw my parents, most of my species die. My world is now a cloud of radioactive dust." There was quiet anguish in his voice, "You're a soldier, you've seen suffering, death. I know you have. You know how precious peace is. How precious _life_ is. I just like to take time to. . . _Appreciate_ life."

"So do I. We all need a rest from the world now and then."

Wilfred _had_ seen things, terrible things he would take to his grave. Though he never saw action against Hitler's troops, he'd seen the images of the horrors that bloody monster had imagined. He'd seen the aftermath of The Blitz, helped rebuild, but he'd been far away during the actual bloodshed. Oddly enough, he hadn't seen anyone die of violence until long _after_ The War. No one else seemed to remember the Toclafane, it was if it had never happened, but he remembered. He wished to God he _didn't_, but he did. He'd seen innocent people slaughtered by the Daleks, his friends and neighbors, their _children_. Some were killed outright, others taken to that bloody ship and murdered there. He and Sylvia had almost been killed themselves, if not for Rose Tyler. He'd watched Harold Saxon, who was really a Time Lord called _The Master_, push that Rassilon bloke back into whatever hell he came from, along with all The Doctor's people. The enormity of The Doctor's, (and The Master's), sacrifice was not lost on him. Both sacrificed their lives that day, and the lives of their entire species. Worse still, The Doctor had died because of _him_, he'd died to save him from a locked radiation booth he'd blundered into saving some poor fool who'd been trapped in it before him.

And then there was _The Woman_. She would likely always be 'The Woman' to him, as he had no way to find out just who she was, though he had a good idea. She'd warned him of The Master's return, of the Time Lord's plans, even told him to bring along his old Webley, which The Doctor used to break the link between earth and Gallifrey. And she'd been there, at the end, first kneeling at Rassilon's feet, then standing and looking at The Doctor, giving him the courage to finish it, even though she knew she would die as well. She had said that she had been "lost so long ago." A brave woman, that one.

He'd lived to see The Holocaust, The Atom Bomb, The Blitz, The Troubles, Korea, Cambodia, Vietnam, MAD, Rwanda, the Daleks, the Cybermen, the Sontarans, terrorists, the Time Lords, not to mention countless natural disasters. . . The bad thing about a long life is that you see so many tragedies, so many atrocities.

But you didn't have to be old to have suffered.

For a child to grow up alone on an entire world destroying itself was tragic. At least he had been a grown man during the war. Well, _almost_ a grown man, he'd lied about his age to enlist. . . This boy had seen his world destroyed, (both literally _and_ figuratively), his family murdered, and God only knew what else. "I'm sorry, it must have been awful. . ." He said gently, "God knows we humans have come close to destroyin' ourselves more than once."

Sargon nodded, "Thank you, sir." He sighed, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have burdened you with my problems."

"Not at all! Most young people these days wouldn't bother to talk to an old man like me, and if you want to get get somethin' off your chest, I'm happy to help." he smiled, "Besides, you make good company."

"But you came here to relax, right? To enjoy life. Not to tell old war stories." Wilfred put a firm hand on Sargon's shoulder, and pointed with the other to the nearby trees, the leaves just changing color with the touch of Fall "The leaves are beautiful this time of year, don't you think?" "And I love the sounds of bird's singing," Sargon replied, "We didn't have birds on Jagaron. I could listen to them for hours." Wilfred smiled his good-nature flashing across his weathered face, "Then, why don't we? And later, we can have a look through my telescope, how's that sound? I even have a star named after me, you know! Enjoy life while you have it, I say! Leave the past in the past."

"I'd like that, sir, Thank you." Sargon smiled, genuinely enthused. "Yes, let's leave the past in the past, and enjoy life." He turned to look at Wilf, "And good company."

"You really have a _star_ named after you?"

Two war-weary beings from separate worlds, one young, one old. Both forever scarred by the horrors they had seen. Both determined to enjoy life, in spite of it all. The colorful leaves of Fall, birdsong and the laughter of children in the air.

To Be Continued. . .

_Notes:_

Sargon uses the alias _Sean O'Brien_ when disguised as a human.

Wilfred Mott is a wonderful character, and I just can't do him justice, especially his way of speaking. I apologize to fans for that, but I tried as best I could. He had a star named after him in the book _Beautiful Chaos_ by Gary Russel.

_Pitbullfrogs_ appear in the Torchwood novel, _The Undertaker's Gift _by Trevor Baxendale.

I don't know if the word '_duophonic_' is a real word or not. I take it to mean synchronized sound from two sources, such as the two breathing flaps on a Jagaroth's head.

I used _Jagrafess_ as a species name, rather than a personal name or title, such as The Mighty Jagrafess of the Holy Hadrojassic Maxarodenfoe. I don't know what the word 'Jagrafess' was intended to be, it may be all three, a Jagrafess named Jagrafess holding the tile of Jagrafess. . .

A _Slyther_ is a blob-like creature with two eye-stalks, either two or four arms, (they changed the costume between segments), and a ravenous appetite. It appeared in The 1st Doctor serial '_The Dalek Invasion of Earth'._

The _Movellans_ were the androids from The 4th Doctor serial '_Destiny of The Daleks'._

_The Vinvocci_ were the spiny green aliens from The 10th Doctor serial '_Last of The Time Lords_' who reluctantly helped defeat The Master and ultimately the Time Lords. They wore _shimmers_ that gave them the illusion of being human. The holo-shroud Sargon wears is based on the shimmer, it's just a little more advanced technology.

' _The Woman' _appeared in '_Last of The Time Lords' _I have an idea of who she was, but I don't want to get into a debate about it, so I'll keep it to myself.

Why _Rhodney_? I don't know, I just think it's a good name. . . Library World appears in the serials '_Silence in The Library_' and '_Forest of The Dead_'.

_The Troubles_ refers to the civil conflict between Nationalists (mainly Catholics) who supported an independent North Irish State and Loyalists (mainly Protestant) who wanted Northern Ireland to remain a part of The United Kingdom. That is an over-simplification, I suppose, but you can find more detail on Wikipedia under 'The Troubles'. It was marked by vicious bloodshed, terrorist attacks, assassinations and all the other tragedies of war.

The Webley Mk IV Service Revolver was the old gun that Wilf had from his days in the military.

_MAD_ - Mutual Assured Destruction.

_Hedorah_, The Smog Monster, is a Godzilla foe from _Godzilla vs Hedorah_, better known as _Godzilla vs The Smog Monster._

_Movellans, Slyther and Dalek_ Copyright Terry Nation and the BBC

_Jagrafess, Jagaroth, etc. . _Copyright the BBC

_Hedorah _Copyright Toho Company LTD. and Columbia House

_Pitbullfrogs and The Undertaker's Gift_ Copyright Trevor Baxendale and The BBC


	8. Chapter 8

Conclusions

The lights of great cities twinkled like jewels across the blue-green world, millions of people went about their daily lives with no knowledge of their imminent fate.

He came gliding upon great, leathery wings, his vast, humanoid body unclad and incongruous in the vacuum of space. He paused in low orbit, the beating of his powerful wings far more than enough to break the gravitational pull of the planet below. Perhaps some on the surface chanced to look up in those final moments, he would have been clearly visible, so great was his size. Did they know what he was? Could they comprehend their fates? Red eyes focused, a fanged, gaping maw opened wide and a stream of energy, of _life_, began to visibly flow from the planet into The Great Vampire's mouth. The lights were extinguished, everything green turned to brown, then black. He was draining all forms of energy, nuclear, electromagnetic, thermal, even neural and synaptic. He was devouring their souls. . .The stream was tinted with something else, something tangible. . . _Blood_. He was draining the blood of every dying soul on that doomed world. The stream dwindled, then ceased. There was nothing left but a cold, dead world, all energy had been taken to sate the Vampire's ravenous hunger. He turned, and flew away from a corpse-ridden husk of a world as if nothing had happened, with less thought toward his actions than a human crushing an insect. The dark, ravaged world would never bear life again.

A hand rested on Mikaboshi's shoulder, "You shouldn't torture yourself like this." Sargon himself was both awed and horrified by the incredible destructive power of a full-grown, full-sized Great Vampire. "Like The Doctor said, you were helping people. You just put them in a place they didn't belong." Mikaboshi did not immediately respond. The Doctor had chastised him for not even looking to see why the Time Lords had destroyed The Great Vampires. For his ignorance. He was no longer ignorant, _if_ the records Maedar had discovered were truthful. He felt ill. They had not simply 'fell' or been "pulled" into this universe, they had come _willingly_, or, at least, on orders of their King. To _feed_. They had not expected to be trapped here. It was incredible that out of all of The Great Vampires he had saved, he had never asked once _why_ they had come. He could not fault them, they had to survive, they had a _right_ to survive, but this universe was not their home. And he had brought them to places where they did not belong. He had unleashed wolves among sheep. . .

He had tried to repair the damage, taking The Great Vampires from earth and the other populated worlds to the most comfortable worlds he could find with non-sentient food sources. It was unfair to them, that they had to leave their homes and start anew, and it was _his_ fault. He had hidden them among intelligent humanoids so that they would not stand out, a humanoid in a sea of humanoids is less likely to be discovered than a humanoid surrounded by animals. He had not, at the time, considered that they would turn on the races they lived with. It was illogical, they would be drawing attention to themselves, and with attention, danger. But they were also predators, even with their hunger vastly diminished, they still had to eat, and the people around them made easy prey for those without conscience or mercy.

"Vecna played me like a piano. . ." He said flatly.

"But most turned out peaceful." Sargon pointed out, "Every race has good and bad people. Look at the Jagaroth."

"How many of the others have killed without our knowledge. I should have tried to take them home, back to their own universe, but I was afraid that would open the door for more to come through. And, I honestly don't know _where_ exactly they come from. The multiverse is so vast. . . But I should have tried."

He could not have saved only children, how would he have cared for them? Could he have trusted other races to raise them? And even they were dangerous in their own right, and the younger ones would have lacked the skills to survive alone. Or, without supervision, grown into horrific monsters. Besides obvious parents he had foolishly taken random adults. He had been forced to work under the Time Lord's radar, take what he could before they caught their attention. And he did not entrust simply _any_ Vampire adult with the unfortunately large number of orphans. Vampires who already had, or had lost, children, were willing to care for them, as well as those who recognized that their race would die out in this universe without children.

A thought struck him, The Great Vampires were the first Vampires, but not the _only_ vampires in existence. Excluding Haemavores, was it possible that the _lesser_ vampires of earth and other worlds were the direct result of his intervention?

Mikaboshi was ignoring him, lost in his own self-pity. Sargon gave the Jagaroth equivalent of a scowl, he had finally had _enough_. It had gone on too long already. "Beating yourself up isn't going to change anything. It isn't going to bring the dead back! The past is _dead_! Don't sit here crying over the fact that you made a mistake! _Learn_ from it!" He grabbed Mikaboshi by the shoulders and shook him angrily, "You saved my life, my species, you saved the Futurekind, you saved so many races, so many people, but you are _not_ a god! You can't make someone good or bad or _anything_! When you help someone, you have no way of knowing what that person, or his kids, or his grand-kids will be like in the future! But you have to use common sense! A predator is a predator, and doesn't belong among helpless people!" His clear green eye was gleaming with a mixture of sadness and frustration, "Quit feeling sorry for yourself and do something about it for once in your life! Even with a time machine, you can't change _who_ or _what_ other people are, so why don't you just concentrate on changing _yourself_ instead of just giving up like a _coward_!"

Sargon released his hold on Mikaboshi, panting slightly. Mikaboshi's eyes widened in shock. He had never seen his friend angry. And he was right. God help him, he _was_ being a coward. "I don't know how." he said softly, "I don't know how to let it go."

"Then let me help you. Let other people who care about you help you, you have a lot of friends across the universe." His dual voices were firm, yet, reassuring, "And don't just _give up_." He turned off the view-screen. "You're so much _better_ than this. Where is that kind stranger who saved my life so long ago? The one who spent weeks nursing me back to health? I know you're still in there, and I want _you_ back."

"I'm still here, and I care about you more than you can know. I'd never deliberately hurt you. . ." He sounded so warm, almost like the Mikaboshi Sargon knew, "But, there is something I must do right away. I have to warn someone of danger." He smiled, "Then, we can do whatever we want."

London, 1895

"It makes sense, in a rather twisted form of logic. Hiding them in plain sight. Unfortunately, you chose one of the most dangerous predators in the universe to hide among the humanity." Madame Vastra was drinking white wine, fortunately for Mikaboshi's stomach. "So, there are no more Great Vampires on earth?"

"No." There was a grim, strained quality to his voice.

"And you did not invite me to the hunt?" Strax objected. "I was unable to enter into actual combat with Vecna. . ."

"There was no hunt," Mikaboshi was appalled, "I evacuated them to other, safer worlds."

Lady Vastra leaned forward in her chair "Are you _certain_?" Mikaboshi sighed, "Yes, they and their children have been moved to more. . . Suitable worlds. It is unfair to them, but it is my fault, not theirs." He admitted, shrugging a bit

"True, it is your fault," Madame Vastra was blunt, but The Great Vampires were suffering eviction due to Mikaboshi's careless, if well-intentioned, actions, "And unfair, but, if not for you, they would have been slain with their kin. I doubt they would prefer _death_ to the inconvenience of being moved to another world."

Vastra frowned slightly, did he say children?

"Now we have worlds populated entirely by Great Vampires." Mikaboshi continued. A slight smile crept across his face, "The Great Vampires have outlasted Rassilon himself. They are few, but they survive."

"Wait, _children_? How is that possible? You shrunk the ones you brought here, but that would not have changed their basic genetic code. Any offspring would develop normally, with fatal consequences for both mother and child. _Unless_," She smiled thinly, "Unless you tampered with their genetics as well." Mikaboshi nodded his assent, "Yes, I did, but with their consent. We realized the difficulties the alterations in size would cause. I did not want that to happen, but I lack the skill for such delicate work myself, so I was forced to confide in a certain geneticist, acquiring her help in the matter." Madame Vastra was surprised that he had shown such apparently uncharacteristic foresight. "She was, of course, sworn to secrecy. My mother was also a great help." He paused warily, There is another. . . _Issue_"

Vastra's eyes narrowed, "What sort of issue?"

"Lesser vampires."

Vastra's face betrayed grim humor, "Since we last met, I've researched vampires thoroughly. I've even spoken to one. It appears that specific threat was already here long _before_ you brought the first Great Vampire here."

"How is that possible?" Mikaboshi was both shocked and relieved, "Where did they come from?"

"According to The Doctor, The Great Vampires created many lesser vampires during their reign, and these lesser vampires were dispersed throughout the universe with the defeat of their masters."

Mikaboshi sighed, "Thank God. . . I don't think I could handle much more."

"I've also heard a rumor," The elegant reptile rose from her chair, "That there was a cult on Gallifrey that believed that _Rassilon_ himself was a vampire."

"Nothing about Gallifrey matters anymore," There was genuine sadness in his voice, a poignant note of loss, "But, I am intimately familiar with _The Cult of The Vampire Rassilon_. They believed that Rassilon was _turned_ sometime after the War. That he _chose_ to become a Vampire because he considered them ultimately _superior_ to the Time Lords. They said that he foretold that the Vampires would one day rule the universe, and he, of course, wanted to be a part of it," He gave a joyless laugh, "Now, wouldn't _that_ be ironic." He sank deeper into his chair, "I was actually involved with the cult for a short time, a _very_ short time, but they were too radical for my tastes."

The Lady's face expressed surprise, "I don't know which is more astounding, that you would be involved with a group that _venerated_ the being you hate more than any other in the universe, or that _you_ would find _them_ too radical."

"I came to believe that they were wrong, Rassilon was _not_ a Vampire, therefore their entire belief system was false. And I _never_ venerated Rassilon, I merely thought that he had introduced Vampiric DNA into the Time Lord race. To me, he was still a power-hungry ego-maniac, vampire or not. The group also advocated violence and the subjugation of other races, I did not. I still don't."

"So you've always been obsessed with vampires?"

"Ever since I first learned of them, I have been convinced they were wronged by history." He shook his head, "I'm not so sure anymore. I've seen what they are capable of. Vecna's actions were nothing, I've watched records showing Great Vampires literally draining the life from entire worlds. I don't blame them for having to feed, as a predator, you must understand that. But they were so incredibly dangerous, the Time Lords had little choice but to destroy them. I do not regret saving them, everything has a right to survive. They could not help being what they were. Shrinking them robbed them of most of their enormous destructive power, rendering them almost harmless compared to their natural state. I only regret my incredible stupidity of hiding wolves among sheep."

"He's not really a bad person, he means well. . . His heart's in the right place, if not his head." Sargon was helping Jenny (despite her objections that he was a guest), with setting up for tea. Rhodney was curled up beneath a nearby fern, occasionally grunting in his sleep. "I know. The Miss may seem a bit harsh with him, but she knows what she's doing. He seems to have learned his lesson, though. I'm sure it'll all work out in the end." She said cheerfully. "What about you? How've you been? You look a little taller than last I saw you." "It's been. . . _Difficult_. At least in regards to Mikaboshi. We've been to wonderful worlds and times, we even visited a tribe of Madame Vastra's kin, and I've enjoyed it all, but he's had a hard time dealing with what happened with Vecna. He blames himself." His voices lowered to a whisper, "It _is_ his fault, but he didn't mean for it to happen. He was trying to help people. Now he can't forgive himself." Jenny stopped for a moment, "It must be difficult for you." She said sympathetically. "It's hard, sometimes. I'm doing my best to help him, I think I'm finally starting to break through." Jenny sighed, "There are times I can't understand Madame Vastra, or she can't understand me. Our species think differently, on a primal level. I don't doubt you're the same." "Yes, we're literally from different worlds, but we usually understand one another. usually, but not always. . ."

She finished setting the table, "What time are you from, Mr. Sargon?" She asked casually, "Please, just call me Sargon." He replied, "In human terms, about four hundred million B.C." A look of surprise flashed across her beautiful face, "Why, that's before even the Madame's people!" "What is before my people?" Madame Vastra, accompanied by Strax and Mikaboshi, entered the tea room. "Mr. Sargon was telling me that he was born over four hundred million years ago, ma'am." She replied, "I know, Mikaboshi told me during our last meeting. The Jagaroth were a very important species in both of our race's history. I'm fairly certain that we actually carry latent fragments of Jagaroth DNA, due to the explosion of the Jagaroth vessel that aided in the evolution of life on this world." Everyone sat for tea, and Sargon nodded, "My people were ancient even then, ancient but foolish. They destroyed our entire planet and the vast majority of our species." "Ah, yes, the Jagaroth Civil War," Strax said wistfully, "One of the most mutually destructive civil conflicts in the history of warfare. It lasted for over two thousand years and ended with Jagaron being blasted into a cloud of radioactive dust. Almost as impressive as the Kaled - Thal war that birthed the Daleks," "Impressive is not the word I would choose, unless it was followed by '_stupidity_'." Sargon replied, a hint of bitterness in his voice, which Strax missed entirely, "Stupidity? The Jagaroth were one of the most cunning, brilliant, and ferocious races in history. Your ancestors were magnificent warriors! Some of their techniques are still used by Sontaran strategists in our war against the Rutan Host. We thought that they'd gone extinct with the destruction of Jagaron, but you suddenly reappeared a few thousand years ago. . ." "Thanks, no doubt, to you, Master Mikaboshi," Lady Vastra intoned, then turned to Sargon, "Possibly the best decision you have ever made, if this fine young man is any indication. . ." Sargon blushed dark green. Strax continued, "Then they became. . ." His face wrinkled in disgust, "_Pacifists_. It's a tragedy, it would be exhilarating to match wits with an actual Jagaroth warrior." Sargon shrugged, "I don't even know what the war was about." "The usual reasons, internal power struggles resulting in civil war. Too many generals and too few soldiers."

"Strax, please, the boy clearly does not want to discuss the war." Vastra intervened, "Not everyone views war as art."

Strax turned to Sargon, "My apologies, girl. I did not mean to be. . . _Insensitive_."

"He's a _boy_, Strax. Will you never learn the difference?"

"My apologies, again, boy ." Strax stated.

"No need, sir. I understand." Sontarans were created in massive batches inside of cloning vats. Terms like 'mother' and 'father' had no meaning among Sontarans. As an entirely cloned race of one gender, (male), some of them had great difficulty understanding the concepts of multiple sexes. Sargon had met only one Sontaran, but he'd read a great deal about them. He was, in fact, rather fond of Strax and his unintentionally funny antics.

"We were discussing the existence of so-called 'lesser vampires', namely, their existence and origins." Vastra stated, "Before the incident with Vecna, I considered such beings mere myth, stories to frighten children. Much of it _is_ superstitious nonsense, but much is truth as well. It appears, however, that the. . . _Blood_, no pun intended, of The Great Vampires has been passed down into lesser beings. Fortunately for Mikaboshi, they were here long before he brought his refugees to our shores." She shook her head, "At least _this_ time you have had the decency to _warn_ us of the existence of such creatures."

"What will you do now?" Jenny asked.

"_Rest_. I need to get away from myself and start thinking about what's really important, my_ friends_. Sargon wants to go back to New Jagaron for a while, it's a beautiful world. Very peaceful. I think I'll leave the heroics to the heroes," He smiled, "And _heroines_, off course, and try to stay out of History's way, for the time being."

"I intend to go camping," Sargon said, enthused, "I've never been camping, New Jagaron has some spectacular forests, there's a type of tree there called a Sky-root that grows twice the size of an earth redwood. . ."

"Why that sounds lovely," Madame Vastra said, "Perhaps next time The Doctor visits, I'll ask him to take Jenny and myself there." She smiled, "You're not going alone, I hope."

"Of course not," Mikaboshi said, "I've never been camping either."

"Would you like to come with us?" Sargon asked. "I promise, Rhodney doesn't bite. . . I'm not so sure about Mikaboshi, though. . ."

"Ha-ha. Very funny."

"No, thank you. I think you two have a lot to talk about. Besides, I'm working on three separate cases at the moment."

"Cases? _What_ cases?" Strax asked.

"Those _very_ important cases she's working on right now. . ." Jenny looked at Strax.

"Oh, I get it, _Top-Secret_! Need-to-know basis. You can count on me, gentlemen!"

The End?

_Notes_:

Thanks to _ShadowCub_ for giving me information on The Great Vampires.

So Sargon finally told Mikaboshi to shut up! I know that will please a lot of readers. I don't intentionally write characters as annoying, I just can't seem to help it. I know he sounds a bit garbled, but that's just because he's upset. What he means is, basically, 'You made a stupid mistake, stop feeling sorry for yourself, deal with it and move on.'

Miniaturization would pose serious problems in matters such as pregnancy, if the fetus developed normally while the mother remained abnormally small, they would have to do some genetic tampering to prevent disaster. At least, I _think_ they would, these stories have strained my meager knowledge of science and scientific theory to the limit.

I refer to Great Vampires with capital letters, lesser vampires with lowercase. Again, I've never seen '_State of Decay_', though, I'd really like to if I ever get the chance, so please forgive any vampiric mistakes. The Time Lords apparently actually _counted_ the bodies to make sure they had killed all of the Great Vampires, but Mikaboshi obviously seems to have found a way to fool them. Perhaps they didn't know how many there really were, or perhaps he arrived just before they attracted Rassilon's attentions, giving him an inaccurate count. Also, Great Vampires can absorb and feed off of all energy, including that of energy weapons. So, why did Strax' Disintegration Cannon kill Vecna? Because it was not an energy blast, it simply dispersed him on a sub-atomic level. Also, I, the writer, said it did.

_The Cult of The Vampire Rassilon_ was a cult based around vampires and the idea of a 'Vampire Messiah', (who would, presumably, lead the vampires in conquering the universe). They claimed Rassilon had been converted into a Vampire and presumably served as some sort of prophet, and had also brought a great deal of Vampire DNA into the Time Lord race (98% in fact). Paracelsus was drawn in by the secrecy and the idea of helping vampires, but the idea of helping _anyone_ conquer other people was too much for him. The Cult of The Vampire Rassilon is from the novel '_Goth Opera_' by Paul Cornell.

_Haemavores_ are disfigured, vampiric mutant humans from an alternate far future in The 7th Doctor serial '_The Curse of Fenric_', one of the very best of the classic Doctor Who serials. I'd recommend watching it if you get the chance. _Fenric_ himself was a Great Old One, (though not referred to as such at the time), revealed in books to be _Hastur the Unspeakable_.

The audio drama '_Zagreus_' a human-sized Great Vampire named Tepesh claims that Vampires were a peaceful race who fed on cattle until Rassilon attacked and destroyed them. Considering their massive size and dietary needs, I find that unlikely.

_Rhodney_ is, of course, Sargon's pet Pitbullfrog.

Everything Doctor Who copyright BBC


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